Battered Hearts
by PerfesserN
Summary: Ron and Ginny have been murdered, Hermione Weasley is the prime suspect.
1. Chapter 1: Battered Hearts

Battered Hearts

A/N Real life has taken GuitarGurl away from fan fiction writing. This past Yuletide was especially hard on her and her family, I'll just leave it at that.

I encouraged her to write "Battered Hearts", a story that she'd been kicking around since the release of DH – she dislikes the canon ending as much as I do – which, in my humble opinion, had a very good start. She wants to see the story finished, as do I, so, at her urging - really, REALLY good cookies were involved - I've agreed to take over.

Rather than pick up from where she left off, I'm doing a re-write from chapter-one. Subsequent chapters may or may not resemble GuitarGurl's original work; it's a rework in progress.

Oh, Goddess, the abbreviation for that would be, "RIP".

*shudders*

Chapter 1

Ginny sat cross-legged on the carpeted living room floor of her home in Godrick's Hollow. Three year old Jimmy laughed as Al clambered over Mummy like a human climbing frame.1 All three laughing Potters looked to the fireplace as flames burned bright green, signaling either a floo-call or floo-visit from one of their friends or relatives.

Hermione's face appeared, contorted in agony. Someone's large hand in her hair was forcing her head back so that her skull touched her spine. One eye was swollen badly, nearly shut from a fresh bruise. Missing and broken teeth showed through bloody lips.

The face in the flames barely managed to croak "Help!" as the image was drawn back through the fireplace.

Ginevra Potter was so shocked by the brief apparition in her living room hearth that, for an instant, she didn't believe her eyes. Then she burst into action, screaming "accio wand" and "Kreature!" in the same breath.

The old elf appeared instantly, sensing her urgency, "Yes, Mistress?"

"Watch the boys; I have to go to my brother's flat."

Mistress Ginevra going to see her brother and his wife was not unusual, her throwing a fistful of floo powder and diving into the green flames headfirst with her wand drawn was.

"Granger-Weasleys!" she shouted as the green flames enveloped her.

The next day a banner headline in the Prophet blared:

"**POTTER AND WEASLEY SIBLINGS SLAIN !"**

"**Wizarding World Shocked, Grieving"**

_Story by Dennis Creevey._

_Full details are not available to the press at this time, but what this reporter can tell you is, not since the days of Tom Riddle's reign of terror has such wholesale carnage been delivered upon one magical family._

_The three recipients of the Order of Merlin, First Class, lay about the living room of the Weasley Flat in North London. Ginevra Potter's body covered the beaten and battered form of her best friend, Hermione Weasley. Mrs. Potter appeared to have been killed by a powerful reducto at close range. _

_Ronald Weasley, who had apparently been fighting off his wife's attacker, was on the wall opposite his wife and sister. He had, evidently, been hit with a powerful banishing curse. "Even a banisher can be fatal if the person on the receiving end hits a far wall with enough force." said Auror Baxter, the first ministry investigator on the scene._

_Mrs. Hermione Granger-Weasley remains in serious but stable condition at the Fred Weasley Trauma Center of St. Mungo's. A poignant reminder of just how much this family has already given in the defense of Magical Britain._

)O(

Hermione blinked twice, displacing the grit in the corners of her eyes then focused on warm green walls and white ceiling tiles.

"Hospital room, probably St. Mungo's." she said, to no one in particular. Imagine her surprise when a familiar voice responded.

"Right in one, Hermione."

"Harry?"

"Right here."

"How did I get here?"

"Our old friend Kreature came and got me. We flooed over to your flat and, well, lets just say you were in a bad way. We brought you straight here."

Hermione couldn't believe Harry was being so matter-of-fact about this, he must have seen her freshly beaten body on the floor, he must know. . .

"Ginny?"

Harry flinched, slightly. Oh God, oh God, oh God! He was in his "professional DMLE" mode. He was coolly detached. This wasn't a visit, this was a bloody investigation.

His voice, warm and gentle, asked, "Can you tell me what happened, Hermione?"

_Wonderful,_ she thought, _he's going to play the "good cop."_

She turned over in her bed, facing away from him.

"Please, Harry, can't it wait? I'm tired, so very tired."

"Of course, Hermione, I'll have someone posted outside your room in case you need to talk with someone."

Hermione's mind worked furiously. _That guard on the door isn't to keep other people out; it's to keep me in._ What she said was, "Thank you, Harry," before closing her eyes.

1. Climbing frame = jungle gym


	2. Chapter 2: Suspect

Chapter 2 - Suspect

Harry sat in the waiting room at St. Mungo's clearing his mind, concentrating on the image of a candle's flickering flame. This was the first step to rebuilding the walls around his emotions. If he let those walls fall he would see Ginny, the mother of his children, her beautiful face contorted in pain. _OhGodOhGodOhGod, Ginny! She'd died in pain, her face a mask of agony, and where the FUCK was I?_

Harry trembled, choking back the need to cry out, to rage against the night.

_Concentrate, keep the flame. Use the flame to cast out the darkness. Find the blocks and build the walls high and strong._

After a while his breathing calmed and he opened his eyes to see Neville Longbottom, sitting in the chair across from his, also deep in meditation.

Neither man spoke.

Neville's eyes opened slowly.

"Harry."

"Neville."

"I'm so sorry Harry."

"Thanks, Neville, it means a lot to me."

"How's Hermione?"

"Better."

"Can she have visitors?"

"Yeah, I think she'd like to see a friendly face about now."

"You coming?"

"You go first. I'll be along in a bit."

Neville stood and walked to Hermione's door, only to be blocked by the maroon cloaked auror already standing there. The guard looked at Harry, who nodded his head, before letting Neville into the room.

Harry pulled the small signaling mirror from his coat pocket and activated it. It was keyed to the large mirror on Hermione's hospital room door. He watched and listened.

"Neville!"

"Hello Hermione, feeling better?"

"Much, thank you."

"I came as soon as I heard. I'm so sorry Hermione, if there's anything, and I mean _anything_ I can do, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you Neville, you're a good friend."

"Not just me, Harry's here too."

"He didn't come in with you."

"Harry really wants you safe; I didn't think the auror at the door was going to let me in."

Hermione's expression fell at that.

"Oh yeah, regular VIP here!"

Neville looked surprised at that. "Have you seen Rosie?"

Hermione huffed at that, "She's with my parents for now, they plan to bring her by this afternoon, or so I hear."

"Hermione, I'm confused. What's going on?"

"Neville, that auror at the door?"

He nodded.

"He's not standing there to keep me safe; he's there to keep me from going anywhere."

Neville had never been slow, but this was a concept he was having trouble getting his mind wrapped around, "You're a _prisoner?"_

"I think the word is _suspect_. St Mungo's has wards around it to prevent apparition, except in designated points, like the reception area and the emergency room. The same for portkeys. And I'll bet galleons to doughnuts that our conversation is being monitored and recorded."

As if on cue Harry knocked on the door.

Neville started.

Hermione sat up in the bed, "Harry? I didn't get a chance to say how sorry I am about, about. . ."

Her eyes filled with tears and she couldn't speak.

Neville stood and wrapped his arms around Hermione's shoulders. Why wasn't Harry comforting her? And this nonsense about her being a suspect? That's fuckin' bollocks!

"Why you, Harry?"

"Why me, what?"

"There have to be other aurors who can do this _investigating_ thing. I think you'd be a little too close to the case as it is – aren't there policies about that?"

"Yes, but I honestly believe I can do this. If I didn't, someone else would be handling the case and Hermione would be in a holding cell at the DMLE."

The lady in question looked at the man she'd thought was her best friend from the time she was twelve years old.

"How are you doing this Harry? It's like you don't feel anything. How have you turned so, so cold?" she asked.

"Occlumency, I'm a master occlumens these days."

Neville turned red-faced and nearly shouted, "Your wife is _dead_, Potter. So is Ron, remember Ron? _Your best mate and Hermione's husband!"_

The pregnant pause that followed was broken by a discrete knocking. Harry opened the door and accepted the envelope from the auror on duty.

He removed the parchment and began to read as Neville comforted Hermione.

"Neville, I'm sorry, but could you excuse us for five minutes?"

Neville looked at Hermione who nodded and reluctantly released him.

As soon as the door closed Harry asked, "Why didn't you tell me Hermione?"

"Tell you what?"

"I have the results of your medical scan here. Multiple healed fractures, evidence of major organ and soft tissue trauma. The healer's report says the results are consistent with those of a professional boxer."

"That was the first time he'd ever lost control like that, usually we'd argue about something until he'd slap me, "to get my attention," he'd say."

"No, Hermione, these injuries, broken bones, broken teeth, bruised internal organs, are indicative of chronic abuse."

"I think I'd remember. . ."

Her face lost all color, "Oh god!"

"Apparently Ron learned a thing or two from Gilderoy Lockhart."

"All those mornings that I woke up sore, I believed him when he said we'd just gotten drunk and "frisky." I never drink _that_ much."

"So when it looked like he was going to beat you to death you struck back?"

"No!"

"It's a perfectly sound defense; you were protecting yourself and your unborn child."

Hermione's eyes went wide, "My _what?"_

"Surely you know you're pregnant."

Her eyes rolled up into her head and she fainted.

Harry's attention was diverted by a scuffling sound at the door. When he opened it he saw the auror attempting to put Neville in a choke hold. Neville, having learned how to avoid those, snaked his hand up the auror's back, grasped a handful of hair and pulled down hard. The auror fell and Neville had the business end of his wand pointing between the DMLE man's eyes before the law-mage could draw his own.

Not taking his eyes off the auror, Neville said, evenly, "You said five minutes, _Potter._ It's been five minutes."

The man on the ground snarled "I'm placing you under arrest for the assault and battery of a Department of Magical Law Enforcement Officer!"

Harry's voice was soft as he said, "No, Auror Basic Stebbens, you're not."

"But, _sir!"_

"Think about it man, do you really want the details coming out that a _civilian_ took you down so easily? Not a career enhancing move. Now, learning from your mistake? That would be a good thing."

Neville stepped back and Stebbens got up, dusting himself off as he did.

"Can I see her, Potter?"

"She's just gone to sleep, Neville, let's give her some time. I have quite a lot to suss out here. Care to be a sounding board?"

"Give me one good reason why I should."

"It could help Hermione."

Neville narrowed his eyes at Harry, then shrugged, "Go on."

Ten minutes later found them on the tea shop's balcony, each nursing a cuppa.

Harry cast the _muffliato_ and, in low tones, said, "What I'm going to tell you must be held in the strictest confidence, all right?"

Neville nodded.

"Remember how the papers said she'd been badly beaten?"

"Yeah."

"Ron did it."

Neville's look of incredulity fell as Harry nodded grimly.

"Ron's been abusing Hermione; it's been going on for years."

"Why would she stay in an abusive relationship?"

"Why does anyone, Neville?" Harry looked away as he added, "She was surprised to find out she's pregnant."

Neville's mouth hung open for a moment before he asked, "How could she _not_ know?"

"Apparently she's been _obliviated_, several times."

Neville knew, as did all wizards, that multiple obliviations can cause brain damage, "Oh God, no!"

"This case just keeps getting better and better. The priori on Ron's wand shows several bludgeoning curses. Hermione's wand was locked in a drawer in Ron's study."

"So she was defenseless?"

"Pretty much."

"I always knew he had a temper, but this. I thought he loved her."

"Neville, do you know the number one reason given for murdering a spouse, magical or mundane?"

"No."

"Quote, 'Because I loved her,' unquote."

"So she gets off on self defense?"

"No."

"No?"

"She gets off on account of she didn't do it, she couldn't have."

Understanding dawned, "She didn't have a wand!"

"Correct, locked away in Ron's desk drawer."

)O(

Harry knocked on the hospital room door then opened it enough to put his head in, "Hermione? I have someone here who wants to see you."

She sat up and saw Harry holding his almost two-year-old son and leading her twenty-three month old daughter into the room.

Hermione slid from the bed to her knees and scooped her daughter up in both arms.

"Oh Rose, Rose, Rose, my little Rosie!"

"Auntie HewMynee!"

"James!"

Three year old James Sirius Potter ran up for his hug as well.

Albus Sirius wanted in on the hugging action too, so he fussed until Harry put him down to trot over to his auntie.

"Would you like to take the boys home?"

Her eyes went wide, "Can I, I mean, I'm free to go?"

"Yep, the doctor says you're fine, physically, and I happen to know you're not guilty of any crimes, so. . ."

Hermione stood, holding her daughter and nephew and started for the door. In her hospital gown.

"Um, Hermione, would you maybe like to get dressed first?" He handed her a garment bag. "I'll take the kids."

She blushed furiously and nodded.

She opened the bag to find a day cloak, skirt, blouse, underwear, the simple comfortable brown shoes she favored and her wand.

Five minutes later she was dressed and out the door.

Fifteen minutes later she and Harry and the kids were in the London flat that she and Ron and Rose called home.

It was clean, almost too clean.

Harry went into the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Hermione took Harry's cloak and put it in the hall closet next to hers . . . and Ron's.

It hadn't really sunk in yet.

All his stuff was still there.

If she went into the bathroom all his toilet items would be there.

If she went to bed she'd still smell him on his pillowcase.

"It's like. . ."

"Like he's going to walk in any minute, right?"

"Yeah."

"Hermione, I'm going to need something from you. Not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon."

She nodded her understanding, "You'll want my memories of the, um, incident, right?"

"Yeah, I can bring a pensieve here, or you can come to my office at the DMLE."

"Don't you have everything you need, Harry?"

"We have a pretty good idea of what went on, but we need a first hand account."

"How about eight o'clock on Wednesday?"

"That will be fine, Hermione."

"But I need something from you too, Harry."

"What's that?"

"I need you to drop your shields."

He hesitated before answering.

"Later, perhaps. I still need to get through this investigation."

"Harry, your sons, remember James and Albus? They need a _father_ now, and this Mr. Spock bit is _not_ helping them."

Some of the foundation blocks of Harry's occlumency came loose as she said this.

"I, I can't. Not just yet." He took a deep, calming breath. "Soon. I promise."

"Do you want me to watch the boys today?"

"That would be very helpful, thank you."

Normally Harry would drop James and Albus off at the Burrow, but Molly and Arthur were grieving the loss of their two youngest children right now. Something that Harry didn't have the luxury of doing.

"I'll be back around five."

"I'll fix us all some dinner. You can feed Rose and I'll take care of Albus, all right?"

"See you then."

)O(

Author's Note: Pretty open and shut case, right? Care to guess what happens next? What will the pensieve reveal?

Keep reading for the answers to these and other unasked questions.


	3. Chapter 3: Walls

Chapter 3 - Walls

Upton Stebbins scanned the post mortem on Ginevra Weasley-Potter and shuddered. He did _not_ want to be the one to deliver this to Harry Potter. He felt bad enough being taken down by Longbottom at St. Mungo's, now he had to be the one to bring his supervisor _this_.

Harry watched the rookie from across the room. He knew he wasn't going to like whatever it was Stebbins had for him. He checked his emotional fortress walls - stronger than ever, good, let's get this over with then.

"Stebbins! Do you or do you not have that report?"

The auror hurried over to the door marked _Potter_.

"Sir, you really should let someone else take this case."

"Is that your professional opinion, Stebbins?"

Knowing what was in the report gave the rookie the courage to answer, "Yes sir, it is."

Harry raised his eyebrows at that. He'd taken the younger man on as a project when another, more senior auror had declared him "Bloody hopeless." Now his stray was showing some spirit. Harry approved.

He took the report and scanned it for pertinent details.

Ruptured aorta, extensive damage to the liver and intestines.

Greenstick fractures of clavicle and ribs, sternum separated from ribs.

Extensive trauma to the fetus.

Stebbins could tell when Potter read the line about his unborn child. It would have been kinder to stupefy the man and obliviate him, but then he would go through the pain of finding out all over again. He might be a rookie, but he could tell that Potter was hanging on by a thread.

"Sir," the young auror said, gently, "you should go home, sir, we can't do any more until Mrs. Weasley gives us the pensieve evidence."

Harry nodded and accepted the man's offer to escort him to the large floo fireplace. Stebbins guided him onto the bricks, then stepped back to fling a handful of floo powder, and shout, "Godric's Hollow!"

Harry disappeared in a whirlwind of green flame.

His own fireplace leapt to life and disgorged him. He fell to his knees onto the hearth rug and mercifully passed out.

He found himself walking on a pathway between two lush, green hills. The path curved to follow the contour of the hills. Ahead stood a short stone wall, part of a footbridge across the stream that ran perpendicular the pathway. Seated on the bridge was a little ginger girl, a child of indeterminate age. She looked familiar.

"Rose?" he asked, "Is that you Rosie?"

The little girl looked up and beamed at him, crying, "Daddy!"

Harry went down on his knees and gathered his little girl, his unborn child, into his arms.

"Its okay, Daddy, I'm fine here, isn't it beautiful?"

"Yes, baby girl, it's beautiful."

"Mummy says we'll be here when you come back."

"Is Mummy here, sweetheart?"

The little girl shook her head, sadly.

"I gotta go, now, Daddy. See you, okay? Just not too soon!" she admonished.

"Can't we stay a little longer?"

"Nuh huh, we both gotta go."

She hugged him once more, then began to move away. Not walking, just . . . moving.

"Daddy?"

"Yes baby?"

"What's my name?"

"Lily, sweetheart, Lily Luna Potter."

Again that bright smile.

"I love you Daddy!"

"I love you Lily!"

"Harry!"

The harsh voice, on the verge of panic, called again, "Harry!"

He opened up his haunted eyes and saw Hermione's tear streaked face.

"Oh thank God! Harry, you were passed out on the floor, I tripped over you as I came out of the floo!"

"I'm all right, Hermione, I'm . . ."

At that point the dam burst, all the pain and grief of the past three days caught up with, then overwhelmed his unprotected psyche. He held onto Hermione like a drowning man holds onto anything that floats. He didn't cry so much as he howled. For Ginny, for Ron, for Lily, the daughter he'd never know.

"I'm here, Harry, I'm here for you. That's it, let it out, let it all out." She held him as he'd never been held by his own mother when he'd needed to cry.

Neither one of them knew how long they clung to each other, there on the living room rug, but when they separated, exhausted and tear streaked, it was Hermione who took Harry's hands and stood with him.

"Go in there and take a shower and get ready for bed, I'll be back with the kids."

Harry didn't question her, he just nodded and went into the bathroom, stripped off his clothes and took as hot a shower as he could stand. Years of cleaning up after the Dursleys made picking up after himself and wiping down the bathroom surfaces when he was finished second nature. He wrapped a towel around his hips and padded into the master bedroom to put on his pajamas and a housecoat.

When he emerged into the living room he saw Hermione sitting on the couch reading to Jimmy, Albie and Rosie.

"All done then? Good, my turn."

Saying this she went into the bathroom to prepare herself for the night.

"Daddy?" James asked, "Are you back now?"

"What do you mean, Jimmy?"

"Well, you been, um, not here."

Harry understood. His three year old son could tell he'd had his "walls" up.

He kissed the top of his son's head and said, "Yeah, I'm back now."

"Good. Auntie Hew-my-knee was readin' to us."

"Fancy that."

"Can you finish?"

"Sure." He said, plopping down on the couch, where he was immediately swarmed by three small bodies, "Where were we?"

"If you give a pig a pancake. . ." James started, helpfully.

Harry found the page and continued, ". . . She'll want some syrup to go with it."

The literary group on the couch had just finished their second choice, _If You Give a Moose a Muffin_, when Hermione stepped into the living room.

"God bless Laura Numeroff and Felicia Bond. Rose can't get enough of their books."

"Imagine that!"

"Prat! Who's hungry?"

"Me, me, me!" the littlest Potters and Weasley cried.

"Kitchen!"

The sound of thundering footsteps running into the kitchen was followed by a pregnant pause.

"I guess we need to supervise, huh?"

Hermione nodded.

"I'm so sorry, Hermione." Harry started.

"No, I understand now, you did what you had to do. You had to hold it together for the boys, and you had to investigate wha, what _happened_."

Harry moved toward her, but she stopped him with an upraised hand.

"And I know you forced your emotions into a tiny little box and threw away the key . . . but, _dammit_ Harry, James and Albus need you, and Rose and I. . ."

"I'm not going to hide behind my occlumency anymore; I'll deal however else I can."

She nodded and flew into his arms.

"Oh God I missed you Harry, I needed you and you weren't there!"

"I promise, Hermione, I will always be here for you, always!"

"Daddy, can I have beans on toast?"

"Bean toe, beeaan toeee!"

"Sure, Jimmy. Sounds good to me too!"

"I'll need to start some macaroni for Rose, she hates beans." Hermione groused.

"Already got it, ma'am." croaked the ancient house-elf from the kitchen, "Miss Rose is already telling Kreacher."

"Thank you, you are a good house-elf."

"Thank you, ma'am."

"I'm so glad you're over spew." Harry chided.

"Oh please, I was so young, and as usual, I didn't have all the facts."

"Let's have a bite, shall we?"

Hermione and Rose slept in the guest room; Harry put the boys down and crawled into the queen sized bed alone for the first time since their wedding night. He'd never let on that he hadn't slept since his wife's death. Beyond exhausted he fell into a deep, troubled sleep.

The next day was the double funeral service for the youngest Weasley siblings. Mourners and well wishers passed through the Burrows all day. Harry accepted condolences and listened to people he didn't know talk about his wife and best friend for hours without end.

He gave a short, heartfelt thank-you. To Molly and Arthur, for being the parents he'd not had growing up. And to Ron for always standing with him when things went pear-shaped, and to Ginny, for teaching him that it was okay to love unconditionally, more than okay, it was necessary. Like breathing.

Ron's wish was to be buried at the Hoops on Hogwarts Quidditch pitch. That way there would always be a Weasley defending the goals. His body was reduced to ashes placed in an urn and given to the Headmistress. Minerva McGonagall promised to bury the urn at the southern goal, the one nearest Gryffindor.

Ginny was placed in the Potter Family Vault, next to a bier that would one day hold her beloved husband.

An exhausted Harry and Hermione returned to Godric's Hollow that afternoon.

"Want to stay here tonight?"

Hermione nodded.

"What is it, Hermione?"

"All those people thinking that Ron was some kind of monster. They never saw him with Rose, or working with the kids on the pitch or listened to him wax rhapsodically about Rose and me," she smirked as she added, "and the junior Quidditch leagues."

Harry took both her hands in his and said, "I'll get to the bottom of this, I swear!"

Hermione nodded, resignedly, "I'll be ready tomorrow."

)O(

A quarter to midnight found 'Diver Dan' rummaging through the skips in Kensington. He was quiet, not wanting to disturb the well to do residents. Indeed, the feral cats of London made more noise than old Dan. The aged vagrant could be heard humming to himself, and singing, softly, "Them what's well off has the best rubbish."

One man's trash was, indeed, Dan's treasure.

Carefully, quietly, he shifted the cover on a newly placed skip. It was conveniently placed so that the light from a nearby lamppost illuminated the contents – white plastic bags, contrasted by bright red ribbons. As he leaned further in the ribbons sprang to life, wrapping about Old Dan's face and neck.

White hot pain.

But Dan couldn't scream, frozen as he was by the crimson tendrils. His body slid forward into the skip as prehensile tendrils quietly closed the cover.

)O(

"Mrs. Granger-Weasley, this is a potion to relax you a bit. I am required by law to tell you that it's effects are somewhat like veritaserum in that your memories will not be clouded by, ah, personal bias."

"I understand, thank you." She said and downed the potion.

"Pomegranate juice?" she asked, looking at Harry.

"I know you like it, so I had the department order it in."

She smiled, "Thanks." and then leaned her head back, "It's all coming back to me now, oh . . . God, Ron?"

Hermione went quiet as the DMLE medi-witch touched her temple with the tip of her white wand and drew out the memory closest to the surface.

The witch nodded satisfactorily at the shimmering, wispy cloud, "Oh yes, this is a complete memory, no fragmentation at all. Tell me, dear, do you have total recall, what muggles call a photographic memory?"

Hermione nodded, her face contorting in fear.

The medi-witch placed a cool hand on Hermione's forehead and said, "You're here, in this room with your friend Harry, you're not in that other place. It's just a memory, someone else's memory, like a play on a stage, all right?"

Hermione nodded but looked frightened none the less.

"Madam," Harry interrupted, pointing at the memory still clinging to the medical wand.

The matron nodded and placed the wisp in the large stone basin.

"Please note that Auror Lef' tenant Potter will view this memory as will Probationary Auror Stebbins and Department of Magical Law Enforcement Medical Officer Minnich."

The verbatim quill scratched furiously on the legal scroll.

Harry pointed to the basin.

"Shall we?"

His fellow officers nodded then bent over the pensieve.

They fell into Ron and Hermione's London flat. Hermione was sitting on the couch before the fire reading aloud to her tiny ginger-haired daughter. Occasionally the child would point to a picture and Hermione would say, "mouse" or "cookie" or what ever the inquisitive child pointed to.

She looked up at the clock on the mantelpiece and frowned, it read eight-fifty.

"Tripped over someone at the Leaky Cauldron again, have we?"

The sound of jingling keys at the door brought her to her feet.

"Let's just put you in with your Hunny Bunny, shall we?"

She jumped a little at the sound of the door slamming open just as she put Rose in her bed with her favorite stuffed toy, a tan and white furry long-eared rabbit with an enchantment that made it purr contentedly. Rose curled around her "Bunny" as Hermione cast a silencing charm around the room.

She closed the door gently then turned to her husband.

And was greeted by a right cross. Dazed and horrified the witch endured a battering that would have reduced a robust man to an incoherent mass on the floor. But she stood, arms raised and crossed, as blows hammered on her. An odd part of her was detached, trying to understand, trying to see the reason or logic for her pain.

Her husband was livid, spitting curses and screaming incoherently. Then he went quiet, the silence even worse than the cursing as he spun her around and forced her to bend over the kitchen counter. Ron shredded her skirt and knickers with ill aimed cutting curses that left shallow slashes over her legs and bum. She didn't dare move; she knew he was going to kill her.

He took her from behind – roughly. He summoned a small crock that held butter and used it to coat her back passage. He loosened her sphincter with his thumb before forcing his engorged member into that hitherto unused orifice.

Hermione screamed in shame and pain and bewilderment.

There were knives on the counter, just out of her reach. She stretched out her hand only to have it painfully twisted around behind her back. She felt Ron freeze and heard him grunt and go limp.

Hermione spun quickly and ran to the living room, grabbed the floo powder and, throwing the whole container into the fireplace, screamed, "Godric's Hollow!"

She'd just gotten her face into the fireplace when she felt Ron's large hands in her hair dragging her back and out. She barely managed to croak out "Help!"

Hermione realized, to her horror, that she was being dragged by her hair in the direction of her daughter's room.

"No!" she shrieked, and began to fight in earnest. Ron threw her down and kicked her, his booted toe cracking at least one of her ribs.

His wand was out and pointed at her as she lay on the floor in a fetal ball.

The fireplace glowed green and Ginny came flying through. She rolled as she hit the ground and came up with her wand out and pointing at her brother. When she saw who it was she dropped her wand just in time to hear Ron scream _"Reducto!"_

The blasting hex hit her at close range, spinning her around so that she landed on Hermione. With her last agonized breath she cried, "Harry. . ."

Darkness fell and the last thing Hermione heard was her husband's voice screaming "Piss day!"

Then silence.

)O(

Harry stepped back from the memory, shaken. He'd seen enough, more than enough. He knew Ron better than anyone and he knew that the man who did this to Hermione wasn't him. This was no imperious curse, it wasn't polyjuice, it was possession. He was going to find the witch or wizard responsible for this.

There would be no trial.

There'd be nothing left of them to try.


	4. Chapter 4: Remodeling

Chapter 4 - Remodeling

Harry took Hermione to Godrick's Hollow that night. The exhausted mother slept in the guest room with Rosie. Harry watched his youngest son sleep and was startled when the boy woke suddenly, crying for his mummy.

"May I?" Hermione asked. She stood in the doorway, sleep tussled.

Harry nodded. She knelt and the littlest Potter toddled into her open arms. He returned to bed. As soon as Harry's head hit the pillow his son cried, "Daddy!"

It took the better part of an hour to calm the child, and then Rosie, who was upset because her cousin was upset. Two exhausted parents fell into the master bedrooms large bed with Rose and Albus in the middle framed by Harry and Hermione on either side.

Child psychologists will tell you that babies between the ages of one-and-a-half and three should not be allowed to sleep in their parent's beds. What the hell do they know? Everyone slept contented for the first time in days. Harry couldn't move come morning, his three (Most the way to four)-year-old son was a dead weight against his back, the Weasley-Potter cousins were snuggled in the center, and Hermione looked so peaceful lying there, Harry hated to rouse her.

"G'mornin, love."

The bushy haired brunette half opened her eyes and saw Harry's unruly mop, squared and cubed by 'bedhead,' and his piercing, green eyes.

Hermione's brown eyes snapped open and for a moment she looked ready to fight or flee. Then she remembered the children needing them and that their solution seemed like a good idea at the time.

_Oh well,_ she thought to herself, _the worst that can happen is, in my old age, I'll be able to brag that I'd slept with Harry Potter._

What she said aloud was, "I'll have first shot at the loo."

Inwardly Harry groaned until she said, "I'll only be a moment, then I'll take the little ones down for brekkers."

Rose and James perked up at the word "brekkers."

By the time Harry entered the kitchen, dressed and ready for work, all three kids had been fed and washed and his own English breakfast was laid out with a copy of the Daily prophet.

Hermione was eating his breakfast and reading his paper.

"Um, Kreacher, could you boil an egg for me please?"

Hermione looked up and gave him an embarrassed shrug.

"Couldn't help myself, it looks and smells so wonderful."

"Master Harry's breakfast is ready sir, ma'am." Kreacher's gravelly voice announced. He placed a tray in the kitchen nook with scrambled eggs, toast and coffee.

"Thanks Kreacher, I don't know how I'd manage without you."

The old house elf blushed at the praise and herded the children off to the nursery.

"He really is a jewel." Hermione said, nodding in the direction of the elf's retreating back.

"He's one of a kind, that's for sure."

Her smile faded, "I don't want to give up our flat in London. It's so close to my office and Rose is getting on so well with the other children in the neighborhood."

"Don't give it up, then. We'll just be a floo call away in any case, and Kreacher loves looking after Rosie along with the boys."

She took a deep breath, "I suppose its time to get back to work." Hermione was deputy head of the Muggle Liaison office.

"You've trained your staff well. If there had been an actual emergency, someone would have called by now."

Changing the subject she abruptly asked, "Harry, would you come to our flat and help me go through, um, some things?"

He knew she meant for him to help her go through her late husbands stuff and determine what to keep.

"Of course. When?"

"After you get off work today. I'll get started sorting through it this morning."

"Are you sure you're up to it?"

"I'll be fine."

Harry pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head, which, he noted, was a bit higher than Ginny's had been.

"See you this evening then."

)O(

Harry sat in the same room as before, the pensive swirling with the memories of the assault. He looked like he'd been put through a wringer.

All morning he'd reviewed and refocused and refined the image, concentrating on Ron's face, on what he had said much more than the act itself. Not for the first time Harry wondered if it was a good sign that he could detach himself from his emotions in order to compartmentalize the crime scene.

He knew he didn't want to remember his best friend this way, his face a mask of scorn and fury, his eyes red rimmed with, with. . .

He went back into the pensive. Muting Hermione's screams he concentrated on Ron's eyes. At first he'd thought Ron had been drinking, but very little alcohol, magical or mundane, had been detected in his body.

There!

That red glint, like a torus around the iris – it flashed into and out of existence every few seconds. He held onto the memory to make his own pensieve recording, then headed for the department of mysteries.

)O(

Hermione stepped gracefully out of the fireplace in Kensington, looked around and shuddered. She didn't want to give up the flat, but it held horrible memories for her. She'd wanted to remodel the old Victorian for years.

Her face took on that look of grim determination as she nodded to herself and thought – _that's it. I'll gut this place and we'll rebuild it from the inside out._

First things first, purge the home of its former occupant.

There were very few pictures of Ronald in the flat, mostly because he liked to take the pictures. Funny thing about amateur photographers, they have very few pictures of themselves. The only pictures of Ron were the wedding photos, a few shots of him with his junior Quidditch league teams, and one especially good snapshot of him holding Rosie. Hermione reverently placed all the pictures of Ron in a box, save two. The framed 'Bride and Groom' shot from their wedding eight years before and the father-daughter portrait went to the fireplace mantle. Those were the two happiest moments in Hermione's marriage, and she would remember those times. She would not dwell on what Ronald had become at the end of his short life.

Hermione would not be one of those pathetic widows who kept a shrine to her late husband.

She went into their room, stripped the sheets and blankets and pillowcases off the bed - it would take more than a few freshening charms to purge those items of Ron's scent.

Next, she opened the closet and began to pull large handfuls of clothing on hangers, placing them in the middle of the room. There was quite a lot of it; Ronald never threw anything away. His pack-rat ways were, no doubt, a carry-over from having endured seventeen years of hand-me-downs. Some of the clothing, Quidditch related clothes, and his old pair of keeper's gloves (a long-ago Christmas gift from Harry) could go to the amateur Quidditch leagues that Ron had loved and coached. His dress robes would look fine on James or Albus or Teddy some day. Then she had a thought and patted her tummy, "If you're a boy, would you like to wear your daddy's robes?"

She snorted, thinking of all the wonderful things she had to look forward to.

Morning sickness.

Mercurial mood swings.

Cravings.

Not seeing her own feet for three months.

She'd made three neat piles, save, donate to charity, and burn with extreme prejudice.

Everything Chudley Cannon orange was in the burn pile.

Her fireplace glowed green and Harry's head appeared.

"Hermione?" he called to the room.

"Come on through, Harry."

He stepped in and looked at the three piles.

"Let me guess," he pointed to the orange pile, "bonfire?"

She grinned, sheepishly, and nodded.

"Keep?" he asked indicating the pile of books and clothing in charmed garment bags.

"Yes."

"And. . .hmmmm, donate?"

"Spot on, Mr. Potter. Not that I don't appreciate seeing you in the middle of the day, but why are you here?"

"I needed to get away from the office for a bit and I noticed I'm famished, would you like a bite?"

She looked pensive, "Yes, but one condition."

"Anything."

"I want Chinese."

"Um, okay. What brought this on. . ." in a moment of pure clarity Harry slapped the middle of his forehead with the palm of his hand. Of course she was having cravings, she was two months pregnant.

"I know just the place."

"Nice recovery Mr. Potter."

She took his arm to side-along to the Wok-n-Roll near them that catered to muggle as well as magical clientele.

Neither saw or otherwise sensed the long red tendrils retracting themselves into the deepest shadows of the master bedroom's closet.

)O(

When Harry returned to work he saw a small folded airplane on his desk glowing fuchsia. He frowned.

"Just arrived for you, sir, I was just about to call when I heard you apparate in."

Harry nodded; his erk had just saved himself a good brow beating. He opened the message and read it. His suspicions were confirmed – Ron had been possessed. He'd probably been under someone's thrall for years - which explained much.

As for the who?

One clue.

Ron had shouted "Piss day!" right after blasting his sister. Harry hadn't paid that much attention to it but one of the unspeakables was a polyglot.

"Piss day" didn't mean anything really, unless you were from central Europe. Then it was "pizdae" a vulgar thing to call a woman.

In Bulgarian.

"Stebbens!"

"Sir!"

"Ask Mrs. Granger-Weasley if she'll watch the boys for a couple of days. I'll be out of town. Don't tell her where."

"I don't _know_ where you're going, sir."

Harry checked his wand holster, as well as his backup piece, then said, "Bulgaria."


	5. Chapter 5: The Bulgarian Connection

Chapter 5 – The Bulgarian Connection

Harry walked down the narrow street in the less-well-travelled outskirts of Sofia's magical district. He didn't look like a tourist; he looked like a hunter, fully aware of everything and everyone around him. He paid little attention to the three wizards following him. Harry knew they thought they were being stealthy. Harry had learned stealth from Sanguini himself, a thank you for stepping between the old vampire and a self-styled "slayer" of dark creatures. He could easily lose the wizards tailing him, but he was in a bit of a hurry and frankly didn't view the amateur trackers as a threat.

Harry read the street sign, painted into the pavement, "Boyko B. Street," then turned down an even narrower pedestrian footpath. The people around him seemed to evaporate as the largest of the three men trailing him, in the uniform of the Mage Polizi, chuckled evilly.

"Here we have an American or maybe an English tourist, hoping for a taste of Old Bulgaria."

Harry sighed and turned slowly to face this latest petty annoyance.

"Nice boots. Dragon hide I think." The smallest of the three sneered, "I'm sure such fine leather will look better on me."

"Basilisk," Harry corrected, "and frankly, it looked better on the snake."

The trio was surprised to hear a tourist speak perfect Bulgarian.

"Who are you?" barked the policeman, "Show me your identification."

"I'll show you mine if you'll show me yours." Harry answered evenly.

All three thugs drew their wands, but Harry already had his out, as well as the single action revolver that had been concealed by his long black trench coat. He'd cocked the hammer as he drew the antique weapon. The muzzle of the Colt .45 aimed unwaveringly at the forehead of the large policeman.

"I've learned that large-bore, silver bullets are effective against acromantulae, banshees, daemons, harpies, trolls, werewolves and wizards who let their dragon-sized mouths over-ride their snorkack arses."

"Mister Potter, I presume." A reedy voice sounded from his left. The query was in English.

Harry didn't turn his head, "Yes."

The man glared at the thugs in the alleyway and spoke in Bulgarian.

"Oh, very good, Stefan. You've drawn your wand on the most feared auror in Europe, please, don't let me stop you. This will be entertaining."

"What are you saying, Dimitri?" the large man asked.

"You and your moronic friends have accosted Harry Potter, destroyer of dark lords and a personal friend of my employer."

All the blood drained from the men's faces and three wands clattered to the ground simultaneously.

Dimitri chuckled, "Remember the old Bulgarian saying, Stefan. Quote, _Pissing in your own boots will only warm your feet for a little while,_ unquote."

Harry holstered the Colt, summoned the three fallen wands and used deft movements to tie the hovering sticks together with a thin wire. Then he held the small bundle of wands in front of his would-be attackers.

"Take them." he ordered.

Each man grasped his own wand and Harry let go, whispering, "_Portus_."

A rush of wind, a cyclonic blaze of color and the three were gone.

"Where'd you send them?"

"Romania."

"Why Romania?"

"The little guy likes my boots, I sent him to the dragon preserve there."

"Inside or outside the dragon enclosure?"

Harry grinned, "Does it matter?"

The old man laughed. Harry finally got a good look at his maybe ally. Dimitri was tall and thin, very old, and clean shaven. He looked like Dumbledore would have if he'd shaved.

"Dimitri Tschostokovic at your service, Mister Potter."

Harry nodded, "You are my go-between for Victor?"

"Indeed, I handle his affairs. I would be, in your language, a sort of secretary/solicitor, his arranger, if you will."

The men walked and exchanged pleasantries. They stopped at a tiny café where Dimitri bought two Turkish coffees. Harry grimaced, sipping the sludge, while his host smacked his lips in appreciation. After a few blocks they stood before a single tall building, its ground floor crammed with shops. The upper floors looked like luxury apartments.

"Victor lives here?"

"Yes, on the top floor. Please, Mister Potter, he is expecting us."

"I'm just Harry, Mister Tschostokovic."

"Only if you call me Dimitri."

"Fair enough."

The old retainer pressed his hand on a simple wooden door, which opened to reveal a luxuriously appointed apartment with a commanding view of Sofia.

Harry turned around, he was still standing on street level, but the view through the open door was from several stories up.

He said, not for the first time, "I love magic."

"Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Nineteen Ninety Four Tri-wizard Champion!" Krum announced to the room at large as Harry entered. The man was still very fit, bulkier than Harry remembered, but there wasn't an ounce of fat on him.

The two men embraced as old friends.

"Has it really been eight years?"

Victor had been a guest at Ron and Hermione's wedding.

"Oh yes."

"You have grown much, my friend."

"And you are as fit as ever, Victor."

Krum put a gentle hand on Harry's shoulder.

"I was shocked and saddened by the news, I am very sorry for your loss."

Harry hadn't expected that, and was moved by the heart-felt sincerity in the Bulgarian seeker's voice.

"Thank you, Victor. It means a lot to me."

"How is Hermione taking it?"

This made Harry grin, "You got her name right."

Victor looked sheepish, "I always knew how to say it. But English girls really go for an exotic accent."

"She's better," Harry allowed, "she's watching over my two boys while I'm here."

"You have sons?" Krum looked shocked.

"Yeah, James is three and Albus is almost two."

"And Hermione?"

"One daughter, Rose, and one on the way."

Victor sat down and motioned for Harry and Dimitri to take their seats as well.

"I am getting too old. I haven't yet 'settled down' as you English say. But I would like a family of my own someday. Maybe with the right girl."

Harry hated himself for what he was about to do.

"You could call Hermione; she'd love to hear from you." Harry cast a subtle, yet powerful, passive legilimency spell and began to read Victor.

"I will call her, but not yet. It is still too new, too painful." He looked deep into Harry's eyes and said, "Besides, I know you will take care of her, you always have and always will."

Harry detected a hint of jealousy there, but he could sense that it had less to do with his relationship with Hermione and more because Harry had enjoyed a relatively happy life surrounded by true friends and family, that is, until very recently. Harry shook his head as if to dislodge the grief always pressing on the edge of his conscious mind.

"So you'd rather not try to be the next man in Hermione's life?"

Krum shrugged, "Once, maybe, but to her I'll always just be that big, sweet quidditch player who taught her how to kiss – she needs her friends and family around her now.

Victor's smile lessened, "Now if _you'll_ stop with the legilimancy and just tell me how I can help, and what brings you to Bulgaria?"

Harry looked abashed. "I apologize; I find it helps cut through a lot of crap."

Victor just waited patiently for Harry to go on.

"Someone was possessing Ron, apparently had been for years. I won't go into the gory details, but let's just say Hermione's had a rough go of it for the past few years."

"She was abused?"

"In the worst way, Victor."

The quidditch star's fists cracked, "Do we know who?"

"Someone from Eastern Europe, his language was laced with Bulgarian invectives."

Some of the warmth left the room.

"That is why you came to me; I'm the only Bulgarian that Hermione knows so I'm suspect." It wasn't a question.

"Believe me, Victor; unless or until I find who is responsible for this, everyone is a suspect. Even me."

"So what now?"

"Can you tell me anything that might help my investigation?"

"I can give you all my memories of the times I visited England and you may read the letters I received from Hermione."

"There must be a connection between Bulgaria and London; I'm just not seeing it." Harry groused.

"You do know Karkaroff's family had many ties to the British ministry?"

"No."

"Something Karkaroff's father did, very hush, hush."

Harry pulled small mirror from his pocket and called, "Stebbins!"

The young auror's face appeared in the mirror. "Sir?"

"Get me anything you can on the Karkaroff family's dealings with the Ministry of Magic. Find the pattern, Upton, connect the dots!"

"Right away, sir!"

Harry put the mirror away and turned to Krum.

"Thank you, do you know if anyone from Bulgaria was jealous of Ron or enamored with Hermione?"

"You mean, besides myself?" Krum asked with a pained smile.

"I need a break here, Victor. If someone had asked me if I thought you had an unhealthy fixation on a girl you met when you were eighteen after ten years I would have told them to go home and sober up."

"So," Victor pressed, "I'm no longer suspected?"

"Victor, believe me, as far as I'm concerned you never were."

The Bulgarian smiled at that.

"Stay for dinner?"

"I'd love to, but I have to get home to my boys, I wouldn't mind a drink if that wouldn't be abusing your hospitality."

"Not at all, have you ever had _rakki?"_

"What is that?"

"Think of it as Mesopotamian moonshine."

"Sounds good to me."

)O(

"_Zdrasti,_ Hermione!" Harry said just a little too loudly as the portkey left him spinning on Godrick's Hollow's living room rug.

"Daddy!" three tiny voices squealed as James and Albus and Rose dog-piled him.

He kissed all three and looked at Hermione with pleading eyes, "I need the cure," adding a whine at the last, _"pleeease?"_

Hermione shook her head and went to the liquor cabinet to retrieve Ogden's second-best selling concoction – the sobriety potion and hangover cure. She handed an unstoppered, single dose bottle to Harry and stepped back, smirking.

"_Nazdrave!"_ he said and downed the contents of the vial.

He hugged all three kids then jumped up and ran to the loo.

Purged and showered, he returned to the living room fifteen minutes later.

"Merciful Goddess, I hate taking that stuff."

"Harry, why were we speaking Bulgarian just then?"

"Oh, I needed to find something in Sofia so I dropped in on your old boyfriend."

"Victor was never my _boyfriend_, never mind what _some_ people said, he was a good friend and a pen pal and. . ."

"And your first kiss?"

"Harry! I had just turned sixteen, and I'd never been out with _anyone_. Besides, he was so sweet and vulnerable and. . ."

"Looked good on a broom?"

She smirked, "Well, there was that."

"Um, not that I mind, mind you, but why is Rose calling me 'Daddy,' just now?"

"Oh, something I overheard in the nursery. Rose was sad because she's lost her daddy and the boys said that they would share you with them and then Rose said that the boys could call me Mummy and. . ."

And it had seemed so sweet at the time, but somehow explaining it to Harry drove home the point that they were both widowed. They both felt like they'd lost half their souls and the better halves at that. They fell into each other's arms, grieving anew.

Hermione pulled away, "No stiff upper lips here, eh Potter?"

Harry dabbed the tears from his eyes with he sleeves of his jacket, "Sod that, Granger, it's still too raw, and now I can't even hide behind my walls."

"Get a grip," she said, sniffling, "no one's going to shag you if you cry all the time!"

The crudity of her comment, the absolute un-Hermione-ness of it, left Harry gobsmacked.

Which had been her intention, after all.

"Let's have supper," Harry finally said, "I'm sure there's a tin of beans around here somewhere."

"James and Albus got the last tin; Rose got her grilled cheese and tomato sandwich. For you and me its hot Sheppard's pie and cold butterbeer."

Harry bucked up at that, his favorite dinner combination, the ultimate in comfort food.

The extended family sat around the kitchen table, content to be in each other's company.

Harry's fireplace glowed green, signaling an incoming floo call.

"Lef' tenant, are you home?"

Harry sighed, "Right here Stebbins, what is it."

"I think I found your Bulgarian connection. . ."

"Right!" Harry nearly shouted, not wanting his assistant to say anymore in front of the families. "I'll see you in my office in twenty minutes."

"Aye, sir."

)O(

A very tired Harry leaned back in his office chair. Try as he might he couldn't find any holes in his erk's reasoning, but he still didn't have a solid suspect.

When Harry had flooed into the DMLE office Upton was there with his ledger. One lesson Upton Stebbins had taken to heart was that the blank journals were much better for taking and organizing notes than the handfuls of small scrolls that most aurors kept.

The young auror's enthusiasm was infectious, "I did what you told me to, sir. I wrote everything we knew, and started finding connections, and then I found everything I could on each of the connections. Finally, I connected the dots.

No big picture yet, but interesting points did arise.

Point: Krum and Karkaroff were Bulgarian.

Point: Karkaroff was a co-conspirator with Rookwood.

Point: Sasha Karkaroff, Igor's _father,_ created the first cognivores.

Point: Rookwood's job was the care and feeding of cognivores.

Harry interrupted, "Stebbins, what is a cognivore?"

"CNS, that's Central Nervous System cores. They look like disembodied brains with ribbon-like tentacles."

Harry rubbed his temples and groaned, "Oh shite!"

)O(

"_Zdrasti"_ Good day and welcome

"_Nazdrave"_ To your health


	6. Chapter 6: Cogs

Chapter 6 – Cogs

Harry stood before a large circular glass tank in the Department of Mysteries. He tried to remember why Ron had thought "Accio Brains" sounded like such a good idea all those years ago when they were fighting for their lives against Voldemort's inner circle.

The disembodies brains resembled jellyfish Harry had seen in the London Zoo's Aquarium, especially in the way they would wave their ribbon-like tendrils as they swam purposefully about the tank.

As he walked around the tank, one cognivore seemed to follow his progress – an eerie feeling as the floating brains had no eyes that he could discern. He felt the barest touch of legilimency, and slammed his occlumency shields into place so forcefully the intelligence in question visibly flinched.

"The cogs need constant input, Mister Potter, or they begin to atrophy. Anyone who walks into this room provides sight, sound, taste, touch and smell for at least one of them - sometimes more than one."

Harry shook his head and turned away from the tank. The room was operating-theater clean. The tendrilled brains floated in a saline and nutrient solution not unlike cerebral fluid. The cogs were in the care of a tall, thin, middle aged researcher named Nicholas Farkas, Nick to his friends.

"Tell me about Karkaroff and the cogs."

Nick sighed, and began his obviously oft-practiced lecture. Harry wondered if the researcher wouldn't rather be asked about any recent developments.

"Sasha Karkaroff was commissioned by the Bulgarian Mage Ruling Party to harvest brains from convicted criminals – men and women who had committed capitol crimes. Those marked for death were given the opportunity to live, after a fashion, as disembodied brains. The idea was sound – there is no better storage medium for information than the human brain. The convicts were never told that their own memories would be completely wiped so that the resulting cognivore would become a blank slate, as it were.

"Karkaroff's real accomplishment was his ability to retrieve the information through selective legilimency."

"Whatever happened to Sasha Karkaroff?"

This brightened Nick's day, a new and different question.

"Are you familiar with the story of Dr. Joseph-Ignance Guillotin?"

"Isn't he the guy who invented the Guillotine?"

"Actually he didn't invent it, but he was instrumental in getting the French to use it in the late Eighteenth Century as a 'humane' form of execution."

"Wasn't _he_ executed on the Guillotine?"

"No, that's a commonly held belief, though. Therein is the irony."

"How so?" Harry asked.

Nick lowered his voice and said, "This doesn't leave the Department, right?"

Harry nodded, and Farkas continued, "Sasha Karkaroff wasn't content to use convicted criminals for his experiments – he branched out.

"He was convicted of illegally "coring" non-criminals, people who were mentally ill or just unlucky enough to cross his path when he needed a new brain."

"The irony is that he was sentenced to "coring" - forced to become one of his own creations. Knowing full well that his memories and life experiences would be erased."

"Do the brains communicate with one another?" Harry asked.

"After a fashion – when one is used for memory storage a partial replica of that memory is placed in each of the others so that if, God forbid, one cog dies, the data can be retrieved, albeit fragmented, from the other brains. Each cognivore is a "Global Cognitive Server" for all of its fellow cogs."

"Do _you_ communicate with the brains?"

"I access information stored in the brains. I'm not sure "communicate" is the right word. These are not people, they're memory stores. One could just as easily say that the pulling of a file from a drawer is communicating with its cabinet."

"How long can a brain remain outside of the tank?"

Nick looked puzzled by the question, "No one really knows. We used to have one cog that would levitate itself out of the tank and float around the room like a helium balloon. Sometime it would do that for hours before returning to the tank."

"What happened to it?"

"It was one of the cogs caught in the crossfire when you and your friends tore through here thirteen years ago."

)O(

Eight weeks had passed and Harry was no closer to discovering who had attacked Ron and through him, Hermione. Meanwhile, Rose and Albus were rapidly approaching their second birthday, both would be two within a week of each other, and Harry was determined to give them a proper birthday party. With some trepidation he invited his and Hermione's in-laws, Arthur and Molly and all the Weasleys, as well as Hermione's parents, to Godrick's Hollow for the celebration. George was there with Alicia, Percy and Penelope, Bill and Fleur and Victoir. Andromeda Tonks brought Teddy. Charlie couldn't make it but he sent along two beautiful stuffed dragons charmed to walk and flap their soft wings and hiccough wisps of fragrant smoke. Rose squealed and dubbed hers "Bunny."

No surprise there, _all_ Rose's stuffed toys were named "Bunny."

Albie happily dragged his "Draggers" by its tail. Draggers didn't mind – he just blew contented smoke rings in their wake.

When Arthur and Molly arrived Harry was shocked. He'd seen them aggrieved – they'd lost Fred in the war, after all. But now they looked wretched. All used up.

It was as if the loss of Ginny and Ron had sucked the life out of them.

Molly's patented bone-crushing hugs were a thing of the past and Arthur's handshake was like handful of wet pasta.

)O(

Hermione was in the nursery with the three Granger-Weasley-Potters. "Gramama and Grampy Weasley are going to be here soon and I need you to be extra-cheerful around them, okay sweeties?"

"Gramama cries a lot." James observed.

"Gramama's sad sweetheart."

"Cause of Mummy and Unca Ron?"

Hermione nodded. The ache was still there, but it was manageable now.

"Remember now, happy faces everyone!" Hermione reminded them and led them into the big downstairs living room.

"Gramama! Grampy!" all three children raced to their red and silver haired grandparents.

"Here's my Potter-Weasleys and my little Granger-Weasley!" Arthur cried with forced cheerfulness.

Molly looked shocked.

"Ginevra . . . Ronald?"

"No Gramama, Rosie and Albie!" James protested.

The Weasley matriarch fell to her knees and gathered her grandbabies into her arms and laughed and cried and kissed the squirming cousins who hugged her back as hard as they could.

"They're the spitting image of Ron and Ginny at that age." Arthur marveled.

"Maybe we're just being reminded that, no matter what, life goes on?" Harry ventured.

Grampy Weasley smiled - his first genuine smile since his children's funeral.

Harry took all the children on broom rides, Grampa Granger did some amazing parlor tricks – more so because, even though nearly everyone in the room could do actual magic, slight-of-hand was beyond them.

Through it all the littlest grandchildren stayed with Gramama and Grampy.

And a healing light was coaxed to life in the eldest Weasleys by the youngest.

)O(

"Well I'd say the evening was an unqualified success." Harry observed, picking lemon cake crumbs out of Hermione's shoulder length frizz. He'd managed to talk her into staying the night in the room he'd set aside for her and Rose.

"I was really scared when I saw Molly come in – she looked like she'd aged a hundred years in two months."

Harry paused, "Has it been two months already?"

Hermione groaned as she bent down to pick up a tiny shoe.

"I'll get that!" Harry offered.

"No, Master Harry," Kreacher interrupted, "I'll be doing the picking up and getting the cleaning done – please take Mistress to bed!"

Harry and Hermione were startled by the house elf's suggestion.

Kreacher looked at the gobsmacked mages and clarified "Mistress will be needing her rest; she's in a family way."

Harry put his hands on Hermione's shoulders and gently guided her to the stairs, "Come along, _Mistress,_ Kreacher's right, you are needing your rest."

"Harry, I'm pregnant, not crippled – I'll manage."

Still she indulged Harry, allowing him to walk with her up to the guest room where Rose snored gently in her sleigh bed. He bent down to kiss her cheek and the newly minted two-year-old hummed contentedly snuggling against her stuffed dragon.

Hermione felt deep affection for Harry at that moment. He turned to say goodnight and was startled by the expression on her face and the thin trickle of blood on her upper lip.

He plucked a tissue from the night stand and dabbed just under her nose.

"Oh," she said with a nervous little laugh, "that's attractive isn't it?"

Harry shrugged.

"Oh come on, Harry! I'm all thick around the middle and my face is blotchy and my baps are, um, well."

"Its okay, Hermione, I've been through this - twice now. And I can tell you from experience you're wearing it well."

She looked at his as if he'd grown another eye in the middle of his forehead.

Harry pulled her into a hug and murmured, "I thought Ginny was most beautiful when she was just a few months along with Jimmy and Albie, and I have to tell you, you are too."

"Oh!" she squeaked.

"Oh?" he asked, holding her at arm's length.

"I feel her moving!" She excitedly took Harry's hand and placed it on the bump on her belly. Sure enough there was a slight movement.

"That's brilliant!" he said and picked her up, swung her around and kissed her.

Then stopped, shocked at his reaction to his best friend.

"Ah, um, Hermione, I'm uh. . ."

"It's okay Harry," she said, kissing him on the cheek, "we just got caught up in the moment. Really, it's alright."

"Well, um, I'll just be next door, in my room I mean, um, goodnight . . . Hermione."

"Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Daddy." mumbled Rose; her voice small.

Harry smiled, "G'night sweetheart."

)O(

In Kensington, Paul Kemp was happy. He'd gotten the promotion and had asked Lisa to marry him – and this time she hadn't said no. He was wearing her down. In the distance a clock struck one. That had been some celebration. He loved his mates, he loved Lisa - he loved his life.

The early morning was cool and damp – the ubiquitous London fog softened lights and obscured details.

As Paul turned to enter his own walkway he passed under a large oak, its leaves heavy with moisture. Something disturbed a branch spilling cold water down the back of his neck. He yelped and jumped and didn't even feel the thin red ribbons touch his face and neck.

Paul froze; his expression blank. After a time he grinned evilly.

He looked at the coach lamps, obscured by fog, at the flat across the street from his and, in a voice not entirely his own, said one word, a name.

"Hermione!"

)O(

For those of you not familiar with the joys of pregnancy, spontaneous nosebleeds are common. I recommend a humidifier for the room and a swab of Vaseline in each nostril before going to bed.


	7. Chapter 7: One Island to Another

Chapter 7 – One Island to Another

Paul Kemp woke up in a strange house. He was seated at someone else's kitchen table, face down on the Formica. That was disturbing. What was _really_ disturbing was the fact that he didn't know where he was or how he'd gotten there - or why he was griping the handle of a large carving knife.

Paul was a neat freak; apparently whoever lived here was too. He placed the great knife in its proper place on the above-counter rack. Cautiously, quietly moving to the kitchen door he exited through a neat little shared garden area. The garden gate led to a street that ran parallel and one street down from his.

He nervously walked around the block to his flat and realized that he'd entered the Weasley's, his neighbors across the street. Paul had never been in their home. Well, not before this morning, but they were friendly enough folk, talking when they met on the street. "Nodding acquaintances" his mum would have called them.

Paul entered his own front door and breathed a heavy sigh.

"Just how much did I drink last night?" he mused.

"Oh well, no harm, no foul. I wasn't discovered in a strange house and I had all my clothes on."

He felt suddenly cold and looked around. "Bit o' the hair of the dog I think."

Yes, a morning bracer was definitely in order. He poured a small whiskey, looked at the mostly empty glass, shrugged and filled the glass half full.

"Hey, it has to be after five somewhere, right?" he announced to the empty room with a smirk and threw back the glass.

The mantle clock reminded him that he had just over an hour to get ready for work. A quick shower was in order, he felt a bit 'whiffy.'

The warm water stung his neck and back, so much so that when he exited the small shower stall he checked his reflection in the mirror. Along the side of his neck and back he could see small welts, like angry red little whip marks.

"What the bloody hell are those?"

He promised himself that he'd see a doctor if the welts didn't go down by the end of the day.

Paul dressed quickly, foregoing the tie, thank you, and quick-walked to the underground.

)O(

Hermione woke up feeling better than she had for the past few months. Well, the parts she could remember, that is. Coffee and bacon drew her out of bed and down to the kitchen. She wished for a camera to capture the scene in the kitchen.

Harry stood in his house robe, flipping home fries in a small omelet pan, as bacon sizzled in another pan and a small mountain of scrambled eggs kept warm in yet another.

Kreacher stood by with forced patience as the master of the house did his own cooking. His tiny arms folded around a dish towel, his bare foot tapping on the floor tile. The little old elf's face was a study in tolerance under extreme duress.

He practically lit up when he spotted Hermione in the doorway.

"Would the mistress like tea or coffee this morning?" He asked with relieved dignity.

"Um, either, Kreacher. But I can't have caffeine, y'know."

"I remember from two times before, mistress, I have Earl Grey sans caffeine?"

"That's perfect, thank you, Kreacher!"

"Good morning, sunshine!" Harry said, placing a heaping breakfast plate on the table.

"This smells _so_ good!"

"It's my favorite meal to cook, breakfast. Come by anytime, I'm always open."

"It's the one meal Rose isn't fussy about. Sometimes I'll make breakfast for tea or dinner just to get her to eat something."

"I guess she didn't inherit her father's appetite?"

"Nope, she gets it all from me, except of course, the Weasley Hair."

Harry chuckled, "I pity poor Albie. He's got Ginny's red hair and my unruly locks. The only way to get it to behave is to have it too long or too short."

"I like your hair long."

"Yeah, well, maybe when I'm not in the field anymore, I'll grow it out."

"You're giving up field work?"

"Yeah, after this one case, y'know?"

She nodded, and he continued.

"I'm going to teach at the academy - maybe moonlight at Hogwarts as a flying instructor."

Hermione beamed "Oh that would be brilliant," then her face fell, "but you love field work."

"I used to." He admitted.

Harry sat down heavily. "I used to love going after the bad guys and bringing them in, but I've seen so much – I don't know - ugliness, cruelty, brutality. I've seen things and I've had to do things that made me sick. I did what I had to do because it had to be done, but I always knew Ginny would be home, minding the boys, y'know?"

"Now it's just Jimmy and Albie and me."

Hermione put a reassuring hand on his forearm. "You know I'll take care of the boys, right? I have to; I'm their _Mummy_ now."

"Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Can you take some time off work – maybe just a few days?"

"Well, I'm taking maternity leave when the littlest Weasley makes her debut."

She thought she saw a fleeting look of desolation on Harry's face just before he said, "No worries, just an idea."

"Come to think on it, I haven't taken a vacation since Rose was born, and I've been recently reminded that it's been two years!"

The look on Harry's face made it okay that there would be a literal mountain of paperwork waiting for her when she returned.

"Where are we going?"

"Oahu."

"Seriously?"

Harry smiled and nodded, then asked, "How long will it take you to pack?"

She looked thoughtful.

Harry gave her a mock exasperated sigh, "Hermione, we're card-carrying mages; all we need is a wand and a toothbrush!"

She smirked, "Fine for _you_, Harry. Now, picture yourself traveling across ten time zones with three children and a pregnant woman with nothing but a "wand and a toothbrush"?"

"Right. After breakfast I'll get the boys packed and you get Rose's stuff and we'll meet at Heathrow in say, two hours?"

"It's a date, Mister Potter!"

)O(

Two hours later Hermione arrived at Heathrow's magical departure point carrying a duffle over her shoulder and dragging a wheeled case that looked to be the size of a steamer trunk. Rose perched atop the wheeled luggage like a miniature coachman.

Harry stood holding James and Albus by the hand.

"Where's your luggage?" Hermione asked.

The three Potters grinned as each, in what was obviously a practiced, synchronized motion, pulled a toothbrush from their shirt pockets.

Hermione shook her head and exhaled exasperatedly. "Honestly!"

Harry grabbed up his squealing niece and said, "Actually I've already sent our luggage through; it's waiting for us at the Hilton."

He took the duffle from Hermione's shoulder and pulled the Brobdingnagian suitcase to the luggage counter.

"Two to follow mine, please."

"Right you are, sir!" chirped the cute, petite ticket clerk. "You'll be staying at the Hawaiian Village, then?"

"Oh yes, looking forward to it!"

"I'll be there when my shift is over. . ." the girl said somewhat hopefully.

Hermione, who had been tying her daughter's trainers, stood and was puzzled as Harry drew her into a close embrace, "I'm really flattered, love, but y'see, this is our second honeymoon before sprog number four so. . ."

The girl at the counter had the good graces to blush but soldiered on, "Do enjoy your stay, Mr. Potter, Mrs. Potter."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up to her hairline, but then she wrapped her arms around Harry's middle and said in a low, sultry voice, "Oh, he will. . ."

Clarke, the attendant at the gate smiled at the family coming toward him – he saw two hard working mages with three children taking a well earned holiday, he saw the love there and thought for the thousandth time, _I need to get Vera to take a few days off with me in paradise, that's just the ticket, while we're both still young enough to enjoy travelling_.

He was startled by the raven-haired man softly clearing his throat.

"Sorry sir, I was sky-larking there for a mo." Then he just had to say, "I was taken by you and your missus, you are so much in love and it made me think about my own wife at home and, well . . ."

Clarke shook himself and stood tall, "Sorry sir, not my place," and held out his hand, "Tickets, please!"

Hermione handed the tickets over and said, "Your missus is a very lucky woman, you have all these young distractions parading about the terminal and yet your first thought is of her."

Clarke smiled and said, "Of course, ma'am." Then he added, as an aside to Harry, "Me Vera don' care where I get me appetite, so long as I always take my meals at home."

The three adults had a good laugh at that.

"Come along Granger-Weasley-Potters!" Harry said, jovially.

The "family" of five passed through the gate - and stepped into the lobby of the Hawaiian Village Hilton in Waikiki.

Harry beamed. "I love Gateway travel, no 'hook behind the navel,' no 'squeeze me through a great rubber hosepipe.' Just step through to your destination."

It was dark outside, but you'd have to walk well away from the reception desks to prove it. Tiki torches, fluorescent and flood lights turned the Hawaiian night into day.

The lobby was a spacious outdoor breezeway with a long curved desk.

"May I help your sir?"

"Potter Family, Rainbow Tower, thirteenth floor, ocean view?"

The clerk looked confused, but smiled gamely, "Ah, sir, we don't have a thirteenth floor . . ."

"I'll take this one Lucas!" a well tanned girl with long black hair and amber eyes smiled at the British family.

Harry noticed the waxing-full-waning moon symbol on her name tag indicating that she catered to magical clientele. He also noticed her name was Amber.

"_Mahalo nui loa na ho'olaule'a me la kaua!_ Welcome and thank you for celebrating your honeymoon with us!"

Hermione looked at Harry who was chuckling, _"Mahalo,_ but it's not really our honeymoon."

"_A'ole pilikia__**,**_no problem – Liz, the ticket agent, said that this was your second honeymoon."

This time both Harry and Hermione had the good graces to blush, "Well . . ." Harry started to clarify.

"Its fine," Hermione interrupted sweetly. "Might we see the rooms?"

"Right away, just take the small elevator in the Rainbow Tower on the East side, that's the side facing the ocean. Your luggage is already up there, aloha!"

"_Mahalo,_ Amber."

"_A'ole pilikia!"_

As the two adults and three children walked toward the Rainbow Tower Hermione asked, "What was all that about, Harry?"

Harry smiled, "Ginny and I planned this trip seven months ago, I was going to cancel it but then I thought, no, it'd be good for the boys. It's a suite of rooms, two bedrooms and a common kitchen and living area. The boys were going to be in one room while Ginny and I took the other. We can have a boy's room and a girl's room this way."

They boarded the elevator and pushed the buttons for floors twelve and fourteen simultaneously. Hermione stood up on her toes and kissed Harry's cheek, "I think it's brilliant, thank you for including us."

"Just one small problem." Harry said, frowning.

"What's that?"

"Well, we left London at ten AM, and here in Honolulu it's just midnight."

Hermione smirked, "That's why it was clever of you to bring me along Mister Potter!"

The elevator stopped between floors twelve and fourteen and the blended family stepped out.

"Here we are - room 1314." Opening the door Harry announced "Boy's dorm to the left, girl's to the right!"

"Just like Hogwarts." Hermione mused.

"Boys, meet Rose and me in the common room in five minutes, be sure to have your jammies on!"

All three children pouted at that, "But we just got here!" Jamie winged.

But all five were in the common room at the appointed time to find three "sippy" cups and two cocktail glasses on the coffee table.

Hermione raised her glass and said, "Cheers!"

"Cheers!"

They all drank their potions, smacking their lips at the wonderful flavors.

"Cherry!"

"Pumpkin Juice!"

"Strawberry!"

"Dark and Stormy, good one Hermione!"

"Mine's Pina Colada. All right now, everyone to bed, you'll fall over in five minutes no matter where you are, and then we get to start today all over again, only we'll be fresh and recharged! Let's go, come on!"

There was a wild scramble as the boys scampered into one of the twin beds in their room and Rose jumped into the queen sized in the girl's room.

Hermione sat on the couch and patted the cushion next to her. Harry sat.

"How long do we really have?" he asked.

"Ten or fifteen minutes, I'd guess. I wanted to thank you for inviting us. We all need a change of scenery right now and this is, well, perfect. Although, I think you may have been better off coming without me."

"How's that?"

"I saw the way that little tart at the ticket counter looked at you; you could have had a petite blonde on this couch if I hadn't bollixed it up for you."

"I'm exactly where I want to be Missus Granger-Weasley, and I'm with the girl . . . of . . . my . . ."

Harry fell back on the cushions and Hermione thought for just a moment "Maybe I didn't time the potion all . . . that . . . well . . ."

Hermione collapsed onto Harry, who instinctively stretched out on the cushions, pulling the unresisting woman on top of him. She snuggled into his chest, purred like a contented cat and slept the sleep of the just.

Harry woke feeling fresh and rested and felt a nice warm body on his and a soft, yet firm buttock in his hand.

Hermione smirked and said, "Nice grip there, Harry."

Ten-thousand volts couldn't have moved his hand away with more alacrity.

"Hermione! I'm _so_ sor . . ."

She smiled and placed a finger in his lips, "It's okay - I was just a little heavy handed with the essence of asphodel. We well and truly konked out, didn't we?"

Harry chuckled, "That we did. Um, Hermione?"

"Yes?"

"Could you let me up please? I need to . . ." he looked in the direction of the loo.

"And they say pregnant women have small bladders!"

"Well, it's been a while, since, y'know."

"You should have thought of that before we left!"

"I know, I know, um, please?"

She groaned and got up; loathe to leave the warmth and comfort and security of Harry.

As she stood her expression went pale. "Oh!" she said, then ran to the bathroom and slammed the door.

"Hermione!"

"Sorry!" she said through the closed door. What followed was the sound of a strong stream in the toilet bowl.

After two or three agonizing minutes she came out and sing-songed, "All yours!"

"Thank you!" he groaned – and practically ran into the W.C. to alleviate his own internal hydrostatic pressure.

The three potty-trained Potter-Granger-Weasley kids were in and out in short order.

When Rose finished she bounded into the room and demanded "Brekkers!"

"Boys, shirts, shorts and trainers!"

"Yay!" the Potter boys enthused and started pulling at their PJs.

"Let's get dressed, shall we, Rose?"

"Kay."

Half an hour passed and Harry and the boys were on the couch waiting for the girls.

"Dad, why's it take so long for girls to get dressed?"

Harry shrugged, "They just want to look good for us."

James nodded, but didn't really understand.

When Hermione and Rose opened the door to their room Harry's jaw dropped.

Mother and daughter were in matching short dresses, deep green with hibiscus flowers. Harry had never seen his best friend look so beautiful. Rose was a tiny copy of her mother. Both wore their hair up with a single orchid behind the right ear. Both looked to Harry for his approval.

He stood and said, "Stand up boys; we always stand when beautiful ladies enter the room."

James looked confused but did as he was told, Albus stood and stared at Rose and said, "Pretty."

Mother and daughter performed a little curtsey and said, "Thank you, kind sir."

Harry stepped up to Hermione and touched the flower.

"May I?"

Hermione nodded.

He gently pulled the orchid from her right ear and placed it behind her left.

She looked confused.

"Right ear means you're available. Left ear means your heart already belongs to someone."

"I should have known that."

He offered his arm, "Shall we?"

Albus held the crook of his elbow to his cousin and said "Please?"

Both girls took the proffered arms and headed down to breakfast.

"Albie is going to be a heart-breaker."

"You can already tell?"

"Oh, yes."

)O(

Paul Kemp had had an interesting day. Waking up in someone else's flat for starters. He'd enjoyed a two-martini lunch with a client, and then gone straight to his favorite pub after work to "decompress."

A few more drinks and he'd started to notice brunettes in the crowd. Something about them appealed to his libido. He'd managed to chat up one or two before his alcohol intake over-rode his common courtesy, decency and common sense.

Okay, granted, grabbing the lass's bum as she was dancing with her rugby blindside-flanker boyfriend was not the smartest thing he could have done.

Number Six was not amused.

The good news was that Paul didn't feel the punch.

The bad news was that he would feel it in the morning. The worst news was that he'd wake up in his neighbor's house again.

)O(

"Dark and Stormy" refers to one of the signature drinks of Bermuda, the authentic Dark and Stormy is made with Black Seal rum and ginger beer. I guess at some point Harry has been to Bermuda.

Author's note:

Notice any similarities between Ron and Paul? I'm trying to give the real bad guy(s) some subtlety in this story.

For those of you not familiar with the ruffian's game - played by ruffians, each position in a rugby union team gets a number. Number one is always the Loosehead prop, number two is always the Hooker. You know that gets a lot of snickers.

Three is the Tighthead prop, Four and Five are the Locks, Six is the Blindside flanker, Seven is the Openside flanker and between Six and Seven you'll find Number Eight, simply Number Eight – go figure. The higher numbers are halves, centers and wings, Number Fifteen is always the Fullback.

I played, briefly, when I was in college, but couldn't keep up the schedule and my classes, all of which had labs and/or recitations.

I was amazed at how few injuries there were, considering you've got thirty guys running at each other, full tilt, and no one is wearing helmets or any kind of padding.

I'd love to see the NFL try that!


	8. Chapter 8: Boundaries

Chapter 8 – Boundaries

Paul sat in the doctor's office fidgeting. He had the haunted look of someone who had gone too long without sleep.

"Four days now I've woken up in someone else's house – my neighbor's across the street. Two days ago I was gifted with this," he pointed to his badly bruised left eye, "and I don't remember what I did to get it."

The doctor frowned, "Have you had blackouts before?"

"Never have."

"What are these little scars along your neck and back?"

"No idea. I noticed them the first morning I found myself in the neighbor's house."

"I've seen something like them before, when I went diving in the Virgin Islands. They look just like the scars left by a Portuguese Man o' War."

"Jellyfish?"

The doctor nodded.

"I've never even been to the Virgin Islands, and I think I'd remember being stung by a bloody great jellyfish if I had."

The doctor shrugged and prescribed a complete physical.

"Because we don't know anything we'll be checking everything, Mister Kemp."

"You're the doctor."

)O(

"If I could afford to live here," Hermione sighed, "I could live here!"

"I could get used to this too." Harry agreed. They were both beyond relaxed, laying, as they were, just a few feet away from each other on the lanai of the Hawaiian Village's spa being pampered by experts.

Maui-born Lanikai, worked oil deep into Harry's tired muscles. She was an apprentice healer, as was Kaleo, the _kane_ kneading Hermione's sore back. Both native Hawaiians had easy-going personalities that made them easy to talk to.

"So, you have known _Kahuna_ Harry for most of your life?"

"Um-hum." She responded, "Since I was eleven."

"So all your adult life?"

"Um-hum. . ."

Kaleo caught Lanikai's eye and winked.

She asked, "You and the _Wahine_ Hermione are life mates, yes?"

Harry relaxed into the sound of the Waikiki surf and the soothing voice of the island girl.

"Since I can remember – she is my oldest friend in the world."

"Lanikai has the gift of reading auras." Kaleo said.

"And what does your gift tell you?" Harry asked.

"Only those things you already know - and that anyone with eyes can see. You are like two trees that grow in a harsh land. Your roots are interlaced – you both grew up in non-magical homes?"

Harry was alert and listening now, he nodded for her to go on.

"Your trunks are wound about each other, as are your deep roots - but not in conflict, rather you support each other. When there is plenty you share and when there is drought you share."

He looked over and saw Hermione apparently snoozing under her masseuse's practiced ministrations.

"She is the sister I never had."

Lanikai pouted. "Why do you tell yourself this?"

He lowered his voice, "Because I couldn't bear to lose her friendship."

"Because?"

Harry answered with a faint whisper, "My best mate, my _other_ best mate, wanted her that way and I would not poach."

"He is gone now." It wasn't a question, she knew.

"Yes."

"Turn over please."

Of course Hermione had heard. She was the mother of a two year old child; even if she hadn't been a witch she still had the preternatural hearing of a mother of young children.

Kaleo and Lanikai carefully maneuvered the wheeled massage tables so that the couple who didn't yet realize they were a couple could be in close proximity to each other. The Hawaiian shaman smiled as the edges of their auras touched and merged. He began to hum a deep, soothing rhythm as Lanikai sang of the wind and the sea, the Earth and the sky, Pele, goddess of fire and Kanikanihia, goddess of love.

While what they were doing wasn't exactly sanctioned by the tenants of their vows to the Goddess, or their Healer's oaths, but they recognized two halves of a shared soul when they saw one and decided that fate or Kanikanihia, or whomever had placed this couple in their hands for a reason.

Besides, it's not like they were dosing them with lust potions or anything, they were just nudging two halves of one broken soul together.

)O(

Jimmy, Albie and Rosie ran to their respective parents who were sharing a large hammock stretched between two coconut palms. They weren't exactly cuddling, they were reading. Each had a small paperback novel – his was Clive Cussler, hers was Elizabeth Bear – they read shoulder to shoulder, hip to hip, thigh to thigh. Somehow it just felt right.

The tensile strength of the hammock and ropes was put to the test as two Weasley Potters and one Granger Weasley piled excitedly on the resting couple.

"We was in the water by the jetties!" Rose announced as she bounced on Harry's stomach.

"Fishies sang!" Albus shouted with equal enthusiasm from Harry's legs.

"Kayla showed us how!" James added for clarification from Hermione's formerly dry side.

Kayla, the director of the magical resort's day-care, had taken half-a-dozen children to the jetties, the low sea-wall just off Waikiki, fitted them with lines and bubble head charms and walked serenely into the ocean with her delightedly squealing charges in tow. She taught the children how to listen to the "songs" of the fishes. She helped them hear the snapping shrimp, the 'thrum' of the drum, the hammering of the parrotfish's beaks against the coral and the far-off songs of whales.

Rose lay her head on Harry's shoulder and asked in a small voice, "Do we hafa go home?"

Harry looked to Hermione for help and support. She smirked and said "We do sweetie, but we can come back."

The littlest Weasley looked at her mother with sad eyes, "Do we hafa go home when we go home? I wanna stay with Daddy Harry."

It was Hermione's turn to look for support.

What she got was Harry looking pensive and saying, "Why not stay with me and the boys, at least for a while?"

Which was exactly the wrong thing to say at that point in time.

"Pardon me a moment, please?" she said to James, who moved to let her get up.

"Let's get us into some dry clothes, shall we?" She said lifting her protesting daughter from Harry's chest.

"Is Mummy Mynee mad?" James fretted.

Hermione left and Harry felt as though a piece of him had gone with her.

)O(

Paul Kemp sat in the uncomfortable chair in the NHS screening room and tried to make sense of the questionnaire.

Does your family have a history of mental illness?

Have you or any member of your family experienced blackouts or times of memory loss?

Have you or any members of your family been diagnosed with schizophrenia or DID (Dissociative Identity Disorder)?

"Mister Kemp, we're going to start you on a daily regime of haloperidol – you don't normally drive, do you?"

"No, no need. I live close to the underground."

"Good, good."

"You'll be seeing Dr. Sperry every other week. Can you arrange a morning from Monday through Thursday for the first consultation?"

"Monday would be good; most of the office has a light schedule on Monday mornings, y'know?" Paul fidgeted in his seat, "Doctor, what is wrong with me?"

The NHS physician smiled benignly, "Truth be told, we're not sure, but you show many of the symptoms of multiple personality disorder and we're going to try to treat you from that perspective."

"So I'm off my nut then?"

The doctor smiled, "People who are don't often think so, so that's a good sign, actually."

"Well, thank you for that, Doctor."

"Not at all."

)O(

"Hermione, it's almost time - or have you forgotten?"

Hermione stepped out of the girl's room wearing a lavender tropical floral pattern tea-length strapless gown that did nothing to hide the slight "baby bump" in her belly.

Harry had never seen her looking more beautiful. He gasped, then collected himself long enough to hand her the box with her orchid corsage.

"Pin it on for me, Harry?"

He swallowed but soldiered on.

"Of course."

He gently lifted the fabric slightly away from her left breast and tried to not ogle the smooth flesh there. Harry pinned the fragrant flower in place and offered his arm.

"Mrs. Granger-Weasley."

"Mr. Potter."

The sitter arrived promptly at seven.

They found Amber at the concierge desk who took them to the taxi stand where the island version of the Knight Bus awaited them. Mundanes (as they were called in the States) could not see the plum stretch limo.

"Kiluea Cove, please."

The limo accelerated with a bang, throwing the couple against the back seat.

Hermione grabbed onto Harry for support as he put a reassuring arm around her shoulder.

"I've been missing this today."

He looked worried, "I'm sorry Hermione, I wasn't thinking. Of course you need to establish the parameters of your own life – not have it defined by any man. I know I didn't make it easier by offering to take you and Rose into my home."

Hermione beamed at her best friend, "That's why we'll always be friends, Harry; you know what I'm thinking even before I do.

"I'll admit, I was upset with you earlier – I thought it was because you didn't support me when I was trying to tell Rose that we needed to, as you say, get on with our lives."

Harry felt as though a great weight had lifted from his shoulders.

"Friends?" he asked with a quirky smile.

"Best friends." She answered snuggling into his chest.

)O(

Kiluea Cove was a celebration of the magic traditions of the islands of Polynesia. Tahitians gyrated with sensuous abandon, much to the delight of the tourists, the native girls wore the traditional, that is to say topless, costume. The Hawaiian girls wore leis and skirts of Ti leaves and, as the suggestive swaying of their hips demonstrated, nothing else.

"Watch the _hands_, Harry, if you watch the hips you'll get into trouble!" Hermione chided.

The Polynesian witches were drawn to the potent magic radiating from Harry and more than one concentrated her allure in his direction.

But this was Harry Potter, who, as a hormonal teenaged boy, had been able to resist a Veela's considerable charms.

He smiled appreciatively and applauded politely but did not ogle and did not drool.

"Honestly, Harry, if I weren't sitting here with you I think that _wahine_ would be giving you a Hawaiian lap-dance right about now!"

They both laughed, but then Hermione stopped, her face a mask of calm, but beneath, she was horrified. _Oh my Goddess,_ she thought, _am I keeping Harry from getting on with _his_ life?_

"Maybe I should leave?" she suggested.

But Harry would have none of it.

"But you _are_ sitting here with me, and that means I'm in the company of the _one_ enchantress in the world I want to be with most."

_Damn you Harry Potter,_ Hermione thought, _do you have any idea what you do to me when you say things like that?_

What she said was, "Flatterer!"

And hoped she wasn't leaving a wet spot on her seat as she saw adoration in his emerald green eyes.

)O(

Paul couldn't have alcohol with his medications so he resisted the urge to have "just a little bracer" before going home that afternoon.

He began to rethink his behavior over the past week or so, he'd been out drinking four times in as many nights. One or two with the mates after work and then gravitating to a pub or a club off the beaten path, blacking out and waking up with a large head in the neighbor's house. He considered going back to the doctor's office but then thought, _no, he'll just chalk it up to latent alcoholic tendencies and put me on antabuse or some such._

He promised himself that he would mention it to the mental health counselor when he saw him or her on Monday next.

A chill wind blew just as he was turning down his own walkway which forced him to hunker into his too light jacket.

He barely missed the thin red tendrils that reached down for him as he sprinted up to his own door.

)O(

Author's note: I'm just as desperate for Harry and Hermione to get a clue as anyone, but I refuse to make it easy on them. I love to read the stories where they realize that they've loved each other since they were pre-teens then proceed to rip each other's clothes off, really, feel free to write one or ten. But in my version of the HP universe nice and easy does it.

Antabuse is a drug doctors used to prescribe to fight alcohol dependency.

Haloperidol is a commonly prescribed psycho-pharmaceutical.

Paul Kemp is not the bad guy here, but sometimes bad things happen to good people.


	9. Chapter 9: Mahalo

Chapter 9 – Mahalo

_Utro_. Is morning. "_Dobro utro,_ good morning!"

The sun shines hot – it dries me.

Fog is good, keeps me wet, keeps me safe.

_Tarsia_ Kemp. I'm looking for Kemp.

Where is Kemp?

I wait for Kemp.

)O(

Five days into their Hawaiian holiday the Granger-Weasley-Potters were enjoying a beautiful morning on the beach at Waikiki, when, inexplicably, Harry felt an impending sense of dread. He looked around trying to assess any threat but couldn't see anything obvious.

"Hermione?"

"I feel it as well, and the kids are getting nervous."

All three children, wide eyed, clung to their parents and scanned the horizon.

He spotted Amber coming from the Rainbow Tower walking toward the beach with a purposeful stride.

Harry jogged up to her and took her by the shoulders.

"What is it, Amber?"

"Feels wrong, just feels wrong. Where are all the birds?"

Harry looked around and sure enough, the tiny zebra doves were nowhere to be seen. Normally the sidewalks were well populated with the little feathered scroungers as they tried to steal crumbs from each other.

Amber paled, "Oh Goddess, _tsunami. . ."_

Harry shouted to Hermione, "We've got to get everyone to higher ground, now!"

He turned to the island girl, "Isn't there an alarm or siren?"

"Yes, but it's centrally controlled."

"What if one siren goes off?"

"The others will follow."

"Where's the nearest one?"

"In the open air lobby, c'mon!"

Harry and Amber ran to the lobby where she pointed out the horn.

"What does it sound like?"

"A warning is two long blasts, followed by two short blasts, repeated for fifteen minutes."

Harry nodded, concentrated his magical core on the siren. He felt the circuits, following the wires to the central controlling station, and soon every tsunami siren on Oahu began to bleat a warning – at 130 decibels.

Tourists looked around, some seemed to be a little worried, some laughed nervously until Amber got on the PA and said, "Please proceed to the evacuation points in an orderly fashion, it may very well be a false alarm but we don't want to bet our lives on that, do we?"

AHAB activated, usurping local television and radio broadcasts, instructing people to seek higher ground.

"How high?"

"At least ten meters!"

The Americans in the group looked lost.

"Bloody Yanks!" Harry muttered under his breath, "About thirty feet up! It's an easy stroll up the slope of Diamond Head!"

Within fifteen minutes the hotel staff had all the guests evacuated. Harry did a scan and made sure no one was sleeping through the emergency and went to join Hermione on the mountain overlooking Waikiki. He found her surrounded by English and French speaking tourists who were trying to find out why the beachfront areas were being evacuated. Later, when asked why they were asking her in particular, most people said, "Because _she_ looked like someone who would know."

Harry looked back at the four towers of the Hawaiian Village and sighed, it had been such a nice holiday.

Movement. Harry spotted people walking near the base of one of the towers.

"Bloody tourists!" he grumbled, looking around surreptitiously, all eyes were on the Pacific Ocean. He crouched down and silently apparated to the base of Rainbow Tower.

"You need to get to higher . . ."

He stopped as he recognized several of the faces in the group. All native Hawaiians, led by Lanikai and Kaleo.

"Its okay, _Kahuna_ Harry, we're here to make sure the water doesn't damage the foundations of the towers. We will be the anchors that will keep the towers – the livelihoods of all our families - from leaning, or worse."

Harry noticed that some of the group looked nervous.

"But who will be _your_ anchors?"

Kaleo smiled nervously, "We believe that all Hawaiians came from the deep water," then he shrugged, "sometimes the water takes us back."

"Let me help. I don't know why and I don't know how but I know I can help."

"This is not your duty, Harry."

"Isn't it?" he asked, "Lanikai, what does your sight tell you?"

She looked past Harry allowing her peripheral vision to sense his aura.

Then she looked deeply into his startling green eyes.

"That you will always choose life, but never your own first; that you will listen to the magic, but do not try to bend it to your will. You'll let it do as _it_ will."

She found it difficult to turn her gaze away from his.

"And you are a _very_ stubborn man."

He grinned, "Y' think?"

She knelt and directed Harry to do the same.

"Join hands."

Kaleo took his right hand, Lanikai his left. The other _kanes_ and _wahines_ took theirs as well forming a circle.

"Join your magic so that together we may keep the land from returning to the deep this day. Let the water be content to honor its boundaries with the island."

Harry heard Kaleo take a sharp breath and looked in his direction, the _kahuna_ was looking at Lanikai as though she were completely crazy.

"Focus, everyone,

feel the wave,

It is restless.

It wants to run free.

It wants to climb the land just to see what is there.

Feel the spirit of the water."

Harry could feel incredible energy just beyond his senses, like an impending eruption. _He_ wanted to see what a ten meter tall wall of water would do to the land. Would it wash the stain of humanity away?

"Feel the land,

Earth, born of fire and water,

risen from the ocean,

its roots still deep within the water.

Feel the land."

This time Harry felt the immovable object and he knew what to do.

"We can do this!" Harry shouted.

Lanikai turned her serene gaze in his direction, "_Can_ we?"

Harry smiled, "Oh yes, because our priestess can speak to the wave, and we can give it what it wants."

"Do you _believe_, brah?" Kaleo asked, looking pale.

"Yes."

He looked at all the faces in the circle.

"We don't need to fight the power of the deep water, or pit the island against the water. We only need to give it an easier path. That's all. Just an easier path."

And all the Hawaiians knew exactly what the _Kahuna_ from the other ocean meant.

They all concentrated on the wave, still more than a day's good paddling away, and nudged it, just a little push to the side so that the main mass of the energy would pass far to the east of Oahu.

Seven brave souls who would forever after be compared to forces of nature knelt as the sea level rose gently, spilling over onto the walkways and lawns, and yes, the open air lobby of the Hawaiian Village Hilton.

But rather than a ten meter wall of destruction, just a gentle reminder that nothing in and around the deep was permanent. That the Hawaiian Islands are on loan to, not owned by those who choose to live there.

Fifteen minutes later a long, unwavering, "all clear" sounded and the tourists and tradesmen of Waikiki came down from higher ground, grumbling.

One sunburned tourist griped, "So that's a tsunami, huh? I'm not impressed."

Lanikai smiled benignly. She was one of only a handful of people on the island who understood the magnitude of the force that had been persuaded to pass them by.

)O(

The next day Harry and Hermione packed her massive wheeled luggage. Most of the space had been reserved for presents to bring back to friends, neighbors and co-workers.

Arthur Weasly would be getting a small, spring loaded, grass-skirted hula doll and a koa ukulele.

"I just hope he doesn't take them apart while were standing there!"

Molly would be getting half a dozen muggle cookbooks along with all the ingredients to make mango tarts and macadamia nut biscuits.

"I always feel as though I need a few days off after coming back from holiday, y'know? Time off to rest up from our time off. . ."

There was a gentle knocking at the door. Hermione opened it expecting room service; she wasn't expecting Lanikai, dressed in ceremonial attire, complete with plumeria crown.

"May we come in?"

Harry joined Hermione at the door, along with all three children, who gaped at the beautiful island priestess and her attendants.

"Of course."

Harry felt more than a little uncomfortable when the entire entourage knelt at his feet.

"Please don't. . ."

"_Hoahanau_ Harry," the priestess interrupted, "_Kahuna_ from the Islands of Britain, you are preparing to leave Hawaii, but know this, these islands are, and will ever more be your home. Someday your heart will be drawn back and when it is, we, your _ohana_, your family, will be waiting for you."

Harry knelt before Lanikai and said, "I must say that I have been more at peace here than anywhere else."

The native priestess leaned forward and kissed him on each cheek, when she drew back Harry felt a slight weight on his chest. He looked down and saw a thin gold chain, from which hung a native turtle symbol.

"_Mahalo_, Lanikai."

She bade Hermione kneel with them, and kissed her likewise.

"Your _wahine_, Hermione, is also _hoahanau_, as your lives will ever more be entwined."

When the girls leaned back Hermione had been gifted with a set of matched pearl earrings in tiny gold plumeria settings.

"What is _hoahanau?"_ Hermione asked, reverently.

"It is family by blood, cousins."

"But we're not. . ."

The priestess pulled a great white shark's tooth from the string on her left wrist and used it to slice her palm. Then handed it to Harry who copied her before handing the tooth to Hermione.

She sighed and said, "Why is it always blood?"

Lanikai interlaced her fingers, first with Harry, then with Hermione so that their palms touched.

"Now there will always be a little English blood in my family, and a little Hawaiian blood in yours."

The ritual done, Lanikai rose gracefully to her feet, as did Harry. Hermione accepted a little help up. The priestess bade them hold out their palms. When they did, she kissed the shark tooth cuts - healing them without the trace of a scar. Harry did the same for Lanikai.

"May I speak with you for just a moment, Harry?"

He nodded and let himself be led into the hallway by the island girl.

Hermione intentionally didn't listen to the conversation but could tell it was getting interesting as his head and neck suddenly went bright red and the Priestess kissed him a warm farewell.

"Ever going to tell me what that was all about, Harry?"

"Um, no."

Hermione smirked and ushered the kids off to bed.

"But it's early!" they whined.

"It's early here but much too late to be up back home."

"Awwwww. . ."

They protested all the way to bed, drank from their sippy cups and were soon asleep.

"We'll carry them through the portal around two AM local time, that'll put us back at Heathrow around tea, then we can see our in-laws."

"Molly and Arthur will be over the moon."

Harry chuckled and kissed Hermione on the cheek.

"Thank you so much for coming."

She gathered him into a fierce hug and said, "Wouldn't have missed it for the world."

)O(

Paul Kemp woke up in his own bed. He smiled and settled back into the duvet.

"No bloody big head this mornin'."

He had a quick shower, enjoyed coffee, eggs, beans and toast while watching the telly.

"That's it, I'm takin' the pledge, I don't want t' see a drink until my wedding day, an' that'll be to toast the bride!"

He stepped out of his front door, reveled in the smell of fresh air and the warmth of sunshine on his face and, smilingly, stepped into a curtain of red, stinging tentacles.

Paul's face contorted in pain but his agonized scream was silenced as he blacked out.

)O(

My bride and I were in Honolulu in October of 2005 when a mild earthquake shook the island of Oahu. The Tsunami sirens blared for fifteen minutes. Luckily, there were no fatalities and the earthquake didn't generate any waves, but it was a sobering start to our tropical vacation.

Somewhere on one of our bookshelves you'll find the "Whitest Legs on Waikiki" award – and we live in Florida. Just not near enough to the beach. I also have a nice Kamaka koa ukulele, and yes, I play it often. Weddings, bar mitzvahs, want my card?

I did get "lei-ed" quite a lot on that trip. Oh yeah, I'll go back.


	10. Chapter 10:Paranoia

Chapter 10 – Paranoia

To say Paul Kemp was startled by the arrival of the purple triple-deck bus would be a gross understatement. He nearly fell over when the Knight Bus appeared with a loud bang like the sound of an old car backfiring through a stadium amplifier. The strangest thing was that no one else on the busy pedestrian path seemed to notice.

"Bloody hell, will you look at that!" he said to no one in particular.

A sound like a shotgun firing both barrels and the bus was gone, but five people had appeared in front of the Weasley's flat, and again, no one seemed to notice.

"H-hello, Mrs. Weasley." He managed to stammer out.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Kemp, may I introduce Mr. Harry Potter, an old friend of the family and his sons, James and Albus."

The dark haired fellow looked to Kemp like an athlete, or perhaps a soldier, he was very fit and had a firm but not overbearing handshake.

"Pleasure, and where is Mr. Weasley today?"

Hermione looked down for a moment. Harry stepped forward and said, in low tones, "Mr. Weasley died just over two months ago."

"Oh. I am sorry, so very sorry, for your loss. He was always such a likable chap, I mean, never too busy for a kind word. I'm sorry, truly."

"Thank you, Mr. Kemp."

"I know we don't really know each other, I mean, we've been neighbors for years, but if there's anything I can do to help, please don't hesitate to call me, I'm right over there." He said, pointing to the door of his flat on the other side of the street.

"That's very kind, thank you again, Mr. Kemp."

"Paul, please, if you would, just Paul."

"And I'm Hermione."

"What a lovely and unusual name. Hermione it is then. Sorry, must be off, the old grindstone, y'know?"

"He seems a likable fellow, must work from home." Harry said as Paul crossed the street to his own door.

"Nice enough, we've just never seen much of each other, he works for an accounting firm, I believe.

"He's right, too, about not really knowing anyone here. I've lived in this flat for eight years and I don't know anyone other than the postman, the grocer and the librarian."

"What about other parents at the play park?"

"This is Kensington, _parents_ don't take their children to the park - the au pairs do."

"Well, lets get you unpacked, then we can take our brood to the play park, after all that sun and surf and salt air, a proper English afternoon, complete with mist and chill, is just what the doctor ordered."

"Can't. We promised Arthur and Molly, we'd deliver their grands for tea."

"Even better, a chance to feed chickens and toss garden gnomes."

She started to pull her wheeled luggage but Harry deftly relieved her of the trunk, as well as her duffle and still managed to get the door open for her to enter.

As they entered a soft bell rang three times.

Hermione put a worried hand on Harry's arm, "That's the intruder alarm, Harry. Someone is or has been in our flat."

Harry opened the door and said, "Kids, why don't you go with Mummy to the play park? I'll be along in half a tic, then we can go to Gramama and Grampy's, okay?"

Hermione nodded and shooed the kids out the door, "Careful now, Harry."

He grinned, pulling his wand and affixing his brassard to the light jacket he wore. "Always."

Once Hermione and the children were well away from the flat, Harry began a standard scan for magical intruders.

Placing his holly and phoenix feather wand on the open palm of his left hand he intoned, "Azimuth, zero, ninety. Three-sixty."

A perfect half-sphere grew from his palm outward. Any magical being would show up as a bright spot within the hemisphere. He was careful to filter out his own magical signature.

Nothing.

He repeated the incantation, this time concentrating on anything with a heart, magical or mundane.

Nothing. Well, apparently there were small rodents, probably mice, in the walls.

"Damn." He said to the empty foyer, "I'll have to go room by room."

Fifteen minutes later he found Hermione on one end of the teeter-totter, while all three of their children were on the other.

"Anything?" she asked.

"Not a thing. Apparently, someone who'd had too much to drink entered by your garden door, sat at the kitchen table, and then went to sleep, on at least two separate occasions, perhaps more."

Hermione looked flabbergasted, "How did you deduce all that, Sherlock?"

"Elementary, my dear Miz Watson." He smiled at the thought, "Wouldn't it be great if your name were Watson? Then we could be the great detective and his faithful friend Watson, a team destined for greatness."

"Watson was my mother's maiden name. Granger-Weasley will do for now, and you're evading the question."

"Footprints and scuff marks in the garden and on the lino of your kitchen floor. And the smell of spirits on your kitchen table where your intruder drooled as he slept – the drool was in two locations one smelled of gin, the other of whiskey.

"Nothing appears to have been stolen; it may have been someone who just had too much to drink and got confused, twice. I'd check with the other neighbors who share your garden to see if they saw anything, or I can do that later, if you like?"

"No, I'll just charm the door with a _colloportus_, that'll keep the strays out."

They both knew Harry wouldn't trust her security to a door-locking spell, but, for convenience sake, they both pretended otherwise.

"Well, then, to tea?"

"Come along, Potter-Granger-Weaslies!"

Harry checked the street left and right, then raised his wand and, with a bang, the Knight Bus appeared again.

"Ottery St. Catchpole, Ernie, and don't spare the horses."

Paul heard the double-shotgun blast sound and looked out his window just in time to see Hermione and her friend and the children board the same precarious-looking, purple triple-decker. A few seconds later, a screech, followed by another bang and the bus jumped out of existence.

With trembling hands, he poured a generous portion of scotch, some of which actually landed in the glass, and put the drink to his lips.

"N-no!" he managed to stutter, "Bloody meds. This'll make me even crazier with the meds I'm on."

Paul put the glass down and picked up his phone, then punched the number that he'd written down the week before.

"Yes, Doctor Prince, please."

)O(

"Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Doctor, but I've just had an episode, and I need to talk to you."

"Tell me what happened today."

Paul described his morning, how he'd blacked out again, then found himself on the footpath outside his flat and seen the apparition, the odd, purple bus, not once but twice.

"Perhaps I've had a reaction to the haloperidol?"

Doctor Prince looked deep in thought, "Will you wait here for just a few minutes, Mr. Kemp? I need to confer with a colleague."

The doctor left his clipboard on his stool and exited in what Paul thought was a bit of a rush, not even closing the door all the way.

He stood to stretch his legs and saw the notes Dr. Prince had been making.

Muggle, no previous experience with magic.

Magic?

Saw the Knight Bus appear and disappear – twice.

The words "Knight Bus" were underlined; the word twice was underscored twice.

Kemp heard two voices that sounded like an argument. He stuck his head out of the examining room and, seeing it empty, followed the sound of the voices.

He came to a stop in front of the door that indicated Dr. Herman Prince.

The voices inside were practically shouting. So he didn't even need to put his ear up to the door.

"But if he sees the Knight Bus, he has to be magical."

"Or he's been touched by magic, a hex or a curse, perhaps."

"Tell him everything, worse comes to worse, we can always _obliviate_ him."

Kemp was down the hall and out the door like a shot.

Someone had just said they were going to obliterate him.

)O(

Harry and Hermione led their children off the Knight Bus in the middle of Ottery St. Catchpole and decided to take a stroll through town before floo-calling Arthur and Molly.

"Hungry at all?" Harry asked.

Hermione smiled, "Famished."

"You know, of course, Gramama Weasley will have food on the stove when we get there."

"True, but she won't have chips."

"How about you lot?" she asked the children.

"Chips!" they all sang, bouncing on the balls of their feet.

"Chips it is!"

They found the comfortable pub that every British village is required to maintain and managed a table near the window.

"Lost, mate?" an older patron asked as Harry sat.

"Sorry?" Harry asked.

"Well, anytime we see folk here that we don't know we just assume they're traveling and got lost."

Harry laughed, "No, we're here on purpose, the Weasleys, Arthur and Molly, are our in-laws."

"Oh, yus, the "Ginger League," as we calls em'. Nice folk, keep to themselves, but nice folk. Names McCartney, John McCartney, and b'fore you ask, no. No relation. Folks round here call me Old John, cause Young John, over there runs the bar."

Harry extended his hand, "Harry Potter, and this is Hermione Weasley, and these are our children, James, Albus and Rose."

The old man looked at Jimmy and Rosie, "I can see the Weasley hair, there, eh?"

Both Harry and Hermione smiled and nodded.

Old John's bright expression fell, "Oh, I'm sorry, you must be the young husband and wife, oh, I didn't remember, the whole village attended the memorial service, I should a remembered. . ."

Harry smiled kindly, "It's alright, John, as you say, you just forgot."

Hermione smiled wistfully.

"Join me in a pint?" Old John asked.

"Just one, we're off to the Grandmum's after this."

"None for me, thank you." Hermione reminded Harry.

"Rosie, Jimmy, Albie, what would you like?"

"_Orn-geee-nah!"_

Hermione winced at the mention of the sugary fizzy drink but grudgingly allowed it.

Two pints, a cuppa, and three flask like bottles of Orangina arrived a few minutes later and they all toasted, "Missing friends, never gone from our hearts, never, never to be forgotten!"

Then a large crock of chips became the communal serving for the Granger-Weasley-Potters and their new friend, Old John.

The blended family decided it was a nice enough day to walk to the Burrow, and, as a bonus, it would give them a chance to walk off the sugar and starch.

Rose rode on Harry's shoulders, making her the _"tallerist"_ person in the group, Albus alternated between walking on his own and begging a 'carry' from Mummy Mynee when his little legs got tired.

The three children had fun, each trying to out-do the other belching the fizzy out of their systems.

"That's not polite to do in front of a lady." Hermione chided James, who had just scored a spectacular belch for a four-year-old.

"_BRRRRRRAAAAAAACCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKK!"_

Four disbelieving heads snapped to see little Rosie, her fingertips on her lips, daintily say, "S'cuse me."

Laughter was their walking companion all the way to the Burrow.

Molly looked better than she had in months, the color had returned to her cheeks and she'd put on a little weight, not too much, just a bit of 'padding for comfort'. Arthur was tinkering in the broom shed, something about 'tram-sisters' or what all.

He came out when he heard the commotion of three grand-kids and Molly's "Whoop!"

"What is it, dear?" Arthur said, catching his breath, having run to the house.

Tears streaming down both cheeks, Molly happily announced, "Our daughter is expecting!"

"That _is_ good news!"

Hermione beamed, "I'm just past four months, and showing already. Remember what I was like with Rosie? I'll be big as a house in two more months."

"Do we know if it's a little witch or wizard?"

"Yes. I did the _revealo_ myself, she's a little witch."

Arthur beamed, "Rosie Posie will have a little sister, then. Thought of a name?"

"Well, I wanted to ask you if you thought "Emma Ginevra" would be okay? Emma for my mother and Ginevra for. . ."

Both Harry and Hermione waited for the reaction - each expected Molly to burst into tears.

She simply smiled a happy little smile and said, "Oh, that sounds lovely, dear."

)O(

Paul ran home in a panic, his brain working furiously through possibilities, each less likely than the last, is it paranoia if someone actually is out to get you? The NHS had his home address, perhaps he could call on his friends from work? No, they'd be watched too, even Lisa. Were they all part of the conspiracy?

Magic? Magic must be a code word for some over the top secret ministry of defense something or other.

Were his meds responsible for this seeming-crazy paranoia? Now there was a double edged sword.

If the meds were making him see and hear crazy things, then the doctors were making him crazy, but if he stopped taking the meds it could get worse.

God I need a drink.

Can't have a drink, not with the meds.

He'd heard his doctor, clearly, well not exactly clearly, he'd said "Obliverate, obliviate, obliterate?"

Whatever he said, it didn't sound like something he wanted to have done to him.

He got home in time to see someone at his door, the postman. Paul approached the oft-seen civil servant suspiciously - was he in on the plot as well?

"Hullo Mister Kemp, glad I caught you; you need to sign for this."

Paul mumbled his thanks and scribbled his signature on the plasma pad.

"Here you go, Mister Kemp, g'day to you now."

"Uh, same to you, Mister, um," he checked the postman's name tag, "Barrowman, same to you."

The distraught man ran to his bedroom, and started throwing essentials into a large case.

As he reached up into the top shelf of his closet a thick red ribbon fell on his arm, entangling it. Paul tried to untangle it but found it wound tighter than he'd thought.

"Bloody hell, I don't even know where I'm going and now I'm wound in a bleedin' Yule wrapping?"

He pulled hard and the ribbon wound tighter, then began to sting, then burn.

Paul could only watch, horrified as more ribbons dropped from the ceiling of his closet to capture his other arm.

His panic faded, he became giddy, then laughed out loud.

Then died.

)O(

I hated doing that to Paul, he wasn't a bad guy, but his death will provide the essential clue to solving the mystery. Any guesses as to who's behind the attack of the killer brains?

Stay tuned.

N!


	11. Chapter 11: Setting Boundaries

Chapter 11 – Setting Boundaries

"Nonsense, there's plenty of room, and enough beds so that our grands won't even need to share one."

Harry and Hermione saw the logic and bowed to the immovable object that was Molly Weasley. The thought of lugging three sleeping children like so many sacks of flour back to Godric's Hollow _was_ less appealing than tucking them into a bed just up the stair.

Molly said, "Half a tic!" and disappeared into the hall closet. She returned, beaming, "I knew just where to find these!"

Gramama Weasley came back into the kitchen with a box bound by string. A tug on the knot and the box fell open disgorging an assortment of pajamas dating all the way back to the time Bill Weasley was a toddler.

With a practiced eye Molly sized up the jammies and matched sleepwear to the Granger-Weasley and Potter sprogs. As she handed each child a set, a toothbrush seemed to appear out of thin air, like magic.

"Alright men, it's off to bath and to brush our teeth. Hup, hup, hup." Harry and the boys headed off to the communal bathroom that had been shared by up to seven young men at a time, when a much younger Harry had been over to visit.

Hermione and Rose gratefully accepted the invitation to use the bathroom downstairs.

Rose sat quietly as her Mummy lathered her hair.

"Mummy, is Daddy Harry my daddy now?"

"Head back, dear." She said, by way of a stall. The enchanted scallop shell made for a fine rinse pail, fitting into her hand nicely.

"Well?" Rosie asked, impatiently.

"Too soon, sweetie, too soon to say."

Meanwhile, in the upstairs tub, Jimmy and Albie were trying to see which of them could get the greatest quantity of soap suds on the bathroom floor while at the same time getting as little as possible on themselves.

"Daddy, I'm done." Albus announced, "My fingers are all wrinkly."

Harry looked as his youngest son and grinned.

"And there'll be a fine crop of potatoes behind your ears, little man."

He brandished the bottle of bubblegum scented 'No Tears' children's shampoo and got to work on Albie, while Jimmy insisted he could do his own.

The youngest Potter scrunched his face as Harry gently but thoroughly sponged it with the warm, wet flannel. The eldest son simply splashed water in his own face, rubbing vigorously to dislodge any dirt trying to hide there.

As Harry towel dried Albie's hair his two year old asked, "Are we a whole family now?"

"Of course we're a family, you and Jimmy and me."

"And Mummy Mynee and Rosie?"

"Yes."

Harry helped his two boys into their borrowed jammies then led them into the twins old room.

Albus, tenacious as a bulldog, picked up his conversation from the bath as if they'd never been interrupted by drying and dressing. "Can we all live at our house?"

"I don't think so, little man."

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure Mummy Mynee wants to move in with three blokes."

"What do _you_ want, Daddy?"

_I want my life to be what it was a year ago, I want my wife back_ he thought, fighting back the incipient tears. What he said was, "I want you and your brother to get into bed, c'mon, I'll tuck you in."

"Can Mummy Mynee tuck me in?"

"I'm sure she will."

"Of course I will." Hermione said from the door. She was already in a slightly oversized robe over a pair of Ron's old pajamas. She looked like she did back in first year when she had yet to grow into her night things. The only thing missing was an over-sized book in her hands. She did have a stuffed dragon.

"Draggers!" Albie cried.

"This is Dragger's big brother, he used to be Uncle Charlie's, but with Charlie off in Romania he's been feeling lonely lately."

Little Albus accepted a hug from Hermione, and then clutched the well worn stuffed dragon close to his chest.

Jimmy grudgingly accepted the stuffed hippogriff, saying, "I don't need a cuddle-up."

Hermione said, "I know, James, but 'Buckbeak' here has been lonely for a long time and could use the company."

Hermione ran her fingers through the boy's messy, red hair, then looked up at Harry and said, "Rosie asked if you would. . ."

"Of course."

Harry went into Ginny's old room, now decked out as a guest room with a double bed.

He reached up and pulled the white unicorn from its hiding place atop the dresser.

"Bunny!" Rosie cried with glee.

"Yep, 'Bunny' used to keep your Auntie Ginny company here, and later at school. She needs a Ginger girl to love."

Rose clutched the plush unicorn and smiled.

"Daddy Harry?"

"Yes, sweetie?"

"Are you my daddy now?"

_If only,_ he thought.

"Sweetie, no matter what happens, I will always by your 'Daddy Harry'."

"I love you, Daddy."

"I love you too, Rosie."

Harry, Hermione and the elder Weasleys sat around the kitchen table for a talk and a nightcap. Harry, Arthur and Molly enjoyed a small glass of port, while Hermione sipped hot chocolate.

"I'm going to check the ward scheme around your flat, Hermione."

"Nice of you to tell me, Harry."

"Um, I mean, with your permission, of course."

Hermione nodded.

"Maybe Bill can have a look as well." Molly ventured.

"Couldn't hurt, Hermione." Arthur added.

"No, I don't suppose it would."

"Perhaps Rosie could spend the day here at the Burrow with Jimmy and Albie, then Bill and I could look over your flat?"

"I don't want to trouble you, Harry; you've done so much already."

"Hey, that's what friends are for, right?"

Hermione frowned, but capitulated.

_Why does it bother me?_ She thought.

Harry watched her closely, knowing something was bothering her, but also knowing he would get nothing out of her by badgering.

"How about a read?" he suggested.

Hermione's eyes grew wide, she looked at her in-laws and then back to Harry, "Um, I think I'll just settle in with Rosie, g'night."

"Nite, Hermione."

"G'night, dear."

Hermione got into the double bed with her sleeping daughter, but kept the lantern burning low, too low to read by.

_Why did I panic, just then?_

_Because Harry's idea of a read is to stretch out on the couch by the fireplace, with me snuggled up against him with a book of my own._

_And am I ashamed of that?_

_No!_

_So?_

_I don't want Molly and Arthur to see us cuddling like that so soon after we've buried our spouses - their _children_._

_So I _do_ feel guilty._

_Yes._

Harry read for a short while in front of the Weasley's fireplace, but it wasn't the same.

)O(

"Near as I can tell, Inspector White, the victim was tangled in wire, and electrocuted. Cause of death, heart failure from electrical shock."

"Ben, could it have been suicide?"

"Hard to say." The deputy coroner mused, "He _could_ have accidentally got himself bound up in wires, pulling them down from this shelf, then touched a terminal."

"Next of kin?"

"Elderly parents in Brighton, they've been notified."

White hated that; no parent should have to bury their own child, even a grown child.

"One thing is odd."

"What's that?"

"Well, these burns on the deceased's arms."

"Electrical?"

"Yes, but, something else."

"What?"

"Well, the welts are more consistent with insect stings, and smell that?"

"You'll have to be more specific."

The coroner swabbed clear liquid from the victim's arm.

"Smell."

"What is that?"

"First guess? _Dermatonecrotic_ toxin."

"In English."

"You see the welts on his arm? If we were at a beach I'd say he'd been tangling with a Portuguese Man o' War."

"Right, be sure to add that to the database, 'Victim appears to have been attacked by a great bloody jellyfish in his bedroom'."

"Just doing my job, inspector."

"I know, Benjamin, and I'm sorry. I just hate a bloody mystery."

"You're a police inspector, you live to solve mysteries."

"Nah, I always read the last page of the book first. Drives my wife mad. I like my cases simple, like when the yob stands there with a bloody knife and says, "I'm glad I did it"."

"Well, look at the last page of this one and tell me what happened."

"If only."

Later that night Norman Benjamin entered the data into his computer and, on a whim, looked for a match.

And found one.

Three months before, a veteran 'skip-diver' had been found with similar welts on his face and neck, and a chemical analysis showed the same toxins as today's victim.

The skip-diver's body looked desiccated; he'd been drained of blood, yes, but other fluids as well.

Ben expanded the search and found victims with similar symptoms dating back thirteen years. Then nothing.

"Curiouser and curiouser."

Unlike Inspector White, Norman Benjamin, deputy coroner, _loved_ a mystery.

)O(

"Harry, dear?"

Harry's eyes snapped open. It took him half-a-tic to orient himself; he was in the Burrow, and had fallen asleep while reading on the couch. Molly was speaking.

"Harry, dear, please don't misunderstand me, but what are you doing, exactly, spending so much time with Hermione?"

He wanted to protest and say, "I'm not!" but that would have been inaccurate. "I guess I didn't realize we were. I mean, we've always been the best of friends, and I wanted to be there for her, y'know?"

"I know dear, but someone had to ask the awkward question, I know you are still somewhat unfamiliar with wizarding customs, but a widow is supposed to be left, well, _alone_ to mourn. You should know that, if it became common knowledge that you took her to Hawaii, it would be frowned upon. Her reputation would suffer."

"I didn't know that."

"I know, dear, but Hermione needs to mourn, and then get on with her life."

Harry wanted to shout,_ But I want to _be_ her life!_

"I'm glad we had this little chat, dear. Goodnight, son."

"G'nite, Mum."

Molly smiled and went off to bed.

It's not fair. Harry thought, we're _good_ together, we fit. He closed his book and climbed the stair to Ron's old room, still painted in Chudley Cannon Orange.

The thought of staying in a room that reminded him so much of his best mate was depressing, so he quietly descended the stairs and pitched a handful of powder into the floo.

"Godric's Hollow."

He staggered out of the fireplace floo in his own home and nearly tripped over a bundle of rags on the hearth.

"What?"

It wasn't a bundle of rags.

It was Kreacher, in the rags he used to wear when he was the only living thing at Grimmauld Place.

His body was by the fireplace, in a puddle of blue-green blood.

His head lay three paces away where it had evidently rolled when he'd been decapitated.

The old elf's face was frozen in an expression of unimaginable misery.

Harry went into full investigative mode, first, check the wards.

No intruders.

A quick examination of the body showed no damage, other than the one cut. And that was done with surgical precision.

Could Kreacher have answered a floo call, and then been attacked by the caller?

He called Stebbins.

"What's up, boss?"

"Stebbins, Kreacher has been murdered, in _my_ home."

"Merlin! Are the boys okay, are _you_ okay?"

"The boys are safe, they're at their Grandmother's. I just got here, I'm fine, thanks for asking. I need a full crime-scene team here ASAP, I need you to check the floo logs, see if anyone called my house in the past few days."

"Teams on the way, boss, and I'll have those floo logs in ten minutes or less. I'll see you at Godric's Hollow."

The Auror Basic was there in five, parchment in hand.

"There haven't been any floo calls to this address in the past two weeks, sir, and the only outgoing call was when you called me."

The forensic officer pulled Harry to the side.

"Lef' tenant, your house elf wasn't murdered."

"What? Of course he was!"

"No sir, he killed himself."

"That doesn't make any sense, he was in good health, and happier than he'd ever been, except for, well, you know. . ."

"Yes, sir, but he was very old, and in some families, when an elf becomes too old to do his job, they euthanize him. Really sir, they, the elves that is, see it as a kindness."

"I would never do that." Harry said, sadly.

"I know, sir, and I think your elf, Kreacher was it?"

Harry nodded.

"Kreacher knew it too, and he wanted to save you the trouble."

"Why did he dress up in those old rags, I gave him nice, clean coverings that he was proud to wear."

"Perhaps he didn't want to sully your gifts to him? Hard to say for sure, sir."

"He did it on the brick hearth." Harry observed.

"So that any mess would be easy to clean up."

"But what if James or Albus or, God forbid, _Rosie_ had seen him like this?"

"You would never send a child through the floo first, would you, sir?"

"No, I suppose not."

"Would you like for us to dispose of the body?"

Harry felt a flush of anger.

_Dispose of the body, like so much garbage? Not hardly._

"No, thank you, I'll take care of my elf."

"We're done here, sir. I'll have a full report on your desk by morning."

"Thank you." Harry said, a little stiffly.

_Dispose of the body indeed._

The foresnsic team left.

"May I help, Lef' tenant?"

"Thank you, Stebbins, yes."

Harry pulled a sheet down from the linen closet and spread it out. They carefully placed the tiny body on the sheet, placing the head in place so that it wouldn't look like he'd been decapitated, going as far as to apply a sticking spell so that it wouldn't roll off.

"I'm going to Shell Cottage." Harry said as he lifted the shrouded little form in his arms, "Kreacher will be buried next to my first elf friend."

"May I come with you, sir?"

Harry first said, "No, that won't be necessary," but then reconsidered, "on second thought, yes, thank you, I would appreciate the help – and the company."

Harry shoveled the grave manually, without the use of magic, just as he had with Dobby ten years before. On Kreacher's headstone he wrote, "Here lies Kreacher, a good elf and a good friend."

It was nearly dawn when Harry returned to the Burrow. Rather than try to sleep he took a double dose of pepper up potion.

He was grieving the loss of his old elf friend.

He was mourning the loss of the relationship that might have been as he walked back into Ron's old room.

How could he go on without Hermione in his life?

Sitting lotus-style in the middle of the single bed he began to visualize the flame from a single candle. If he had to deal with the loss of Kreacher, and the infinitely greater loss of Hermione, he was going to need to reconstruct his occlumency walls one impenetrable block at a time.

)O(

Hermione stepped into her office at the Department of Muggle Liasons and was shocked at the amount of paperwork on her desk. There was none. She touched a crystal on her disturbingly clean desk and said, "Bobbie!"

Bobbie, her administrative assistant, stepped through the door, memo book and pen poised, before Hermione took her hand away from the paging crystal.

"We have a full schedule today Ms. Granger, starting with the department head's meeting at nine."

"Where's Connor?"

"He's out today, and as Deputy Director, you get to take the meeting."

Hermione nodded and pulled one of the two scrolls from her in-box. One of which was marked _urgent_.

From:Dr. Kevin Prince

Embedded Muggle Medicine liaison,

National Health Services Branch Office, London

To:Ambrose Connor, Director

Department of Muggle Liaison,

Ministry of Magic, London

Re:Urgent request for muggle contact and interview with a possible need for memory adjustments

Dear Director Connor,

Respectfully request an immediate meeting with a muggle who appears to have become spontaneously aware of the magical world. Said muggle may be in possession of a charmed or cursed object, or may be a squib with no knowledge of any magical heritage.

Please see the attached medical file for details.

I'm sure you see the need for due haste in this case.

Your servant, sir,

Dr. Kevin Prince

Hermione scanned the report and froze.

A muggle had observed the Knight Bus, in Kensington. On her street. The muggle's name?

Paul Kemp, her neighbor.

Without looking up from her paperwork she said, "Get a damage control team over to Kensington, I'll debrief the team as soon as the meeting's over.

"Right away, ma'am."

When the three witches from the Muggle Liaison Office arrived in Kensington it was just in time to see a covered body being loaded into the yellow and green checkered ambulance.

Two men, apparently policemen, were exiting with the body.

Margaret Elaine Roos, the lead witch laid a mild compulsion charm on both men and asked, "Please excuse my curiosity, but that isn't Mr. Kemp, is it?"

"I'm afraid so, ma'am. He appears to have had an accident, something involving electrical wiring in his home. Very sad."

The witch added a bit more to the compulsion and asked, "We're from the leasing agency, do you mind if we just pop in for a quick look around? If there is any chance of dangerous wiring in the building – I'm sure you understand."

Bewitched as they were, neither of the policemen saw any harm, and made way for the three ladies.

"Thank you."

"Not at all."

Once inside the witches cast spells throughout the house, looking for magical artifacts, cursed objects, anything that would have allowed a muggle to see magic. There were traces of magic in the entranceway, and in the closet, but noting definite.

"Could just be a coincidence." One of the junior witches suggested.

"In my experience there's no such thing as a coincidence, we need a proper investigation, and I think I know just the wizard."

Elaine stepped off the elevator at the fourth floor and into the open office environment of the DMLE, uniformed division. She stepped unerringly to Lieutenant Potter's office.

She knocked twice and entered.

"Elaine?"

"I need a good investigator."

Harry waved his hand to the rows of desks outside of his private office, "Pick anyone you like, they're all good, or they don't work here."

"I have a case wherein a muggle, suddenly sees the Knight Bus, and then rather inconveniently turns up dead."

"Again, why me?"

"Because it happened in our beloved deputy director's neighborhood, just across the street from her flat, as a matter of fact."

"Stebbins!"

The junior Auror appeared in the office before the last syllable of his name came out.

"Sir?"

"Stebbins, this is Miss Roos, take down everything she has to say about a rather curious case in Kensington. Please continue, Miss Roos."

"Stebbins?"

"Ma'am."

"Upton Stebbins?"

"Yes ma'am?"

"Don't you recognize me?"

"I'm not sure, there was a Margaret Roos at Hogwarts when I was there but she was, um. . ."

"Built like a bludger and about as friendly?"

"Ah, yes, but you can't be Margaret Roos."

The MLO officer smiled and said, "Not anymore I'm not, and I go by Elaine these days."

Harry cleared his throat, "Fascinating as this is, tell us about the man in Kensington."

"His name is, or rather was, Paul Kemp. . ."

When Elaine finished her story, Harry looked at Stebbins and cocked an eyebrow.

"Suggestions."

"Well, sir." He said, faltering, realizing he was being tested, _again_. "It could just be a coincidence, but I believe it bears further investigation."

Harry smiled and nodded. "Ever been to an autopsy?"

The Auror Basic shuddered, "Once sir, got sick, sir."

"Well, buck up, auror. The first is always the worst."

Harry turned to Elaine and said, "Thank you for bringing this to our attention, your first instinct was spot on. This was no accident. If you ever want to leave the Department of Muggle Affairs . . ."

"Thank you, Lef' tennant, but there's someone in the Muggle Liaison's Office who's very special to me, and I feel I can be of better service there."

"Well, if you change your mind. May I ask another favor Miss Roos?"

"Depends on the favor."

"If Ms. Granger asks, tell her that there are no magic sensing muggles on her street – that's not a lie, there aren't anymore, right?"

"I think I understand, sir. But you must understand, I won't lie to her, sir."

"I wouldn't ask you to, thank you again, Miss Roos."

Harry sent a department owl to Gringotts, care of Bill Weasley, with a rush order and bonus for the warding of Hermione's Kensington flat. He instructed the ward teams to take the funds from his household accounts vault, with a double bonus if the wards were completed by close of business today.

Bill was halfway through a rune scheme in the high priority vaults when a team of goblins physically picked him up and ran for the lobby where the apparition portals were.

The eldest Weasley child just laid back and enjoyed the ride, "Never stand in the way of a troop of goblins and the scent of money."

Two hours later, his brother's old flat had security that would make the gnomes of Fort Knox jealous.

)O(

Every member of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement holds an equivalent rank in the London Police Intelligence Unit, and it was with these credentials that Harry and his assistant entered the coroner's office.

"Doctor Benjamin, I'm Lieutenant Potter, and this is Constable Stebbins. We're with the PIU. I understand you found something unusual in Kensington this morning."

Harry used passive legillimency to read the muggle healer as he described the unusual scarring on the dead man's arms and face and neck.

May I see him?

"I have detailed photos, Lef' tenant."

"May I see the _body_, please?"

"Of course."

Dr. Norman Benjamin found the PIU investigator to be very easy to talk to, and he explained the unusual circumstances, and how he'd felt compelled to dig deeper into the NHS database to see if there had been any other, similar occurrences.

"And you found similar attacks dating back to 1996."

"Attacks?"

"If I'm right, yes."

Norman donned latex gloves, offering a pair to Harry, who accepted them, and another to Stebbins, who declined, then opened the stainless steel drawer.

The doctor unzipped the translucent bag.

It was startling to see Paul Kemp lying there naked, with a "T" shaped incision marring his torso. Dr. Benjamin had to tuck the zippered edges of the body bag under Kemp's arms to expose them.

Harry took in a sharp breath.

"It's alright, Lef' tenant, not many people are comfortable with a cadaver."

But Harry wasn't squeamish, he'd gasped because he'd seen scars like those before.

The first time had been in the Department of Mysteries thirteen years before.

Those were the welts left by tentacled brains, _cognivores_.

He'd had his suspicions confirmed, but that begged even more questions.

Why were the cognivores attacking people?

And most important, who was the brain behind the brains?

)O(

In Kensington the intelligence behind the tendrils balked at the edge of the Granger-Weasley property.

It retreated to the trees moistened by fog and rain.

It could wait.

It was patient.

She would come.


	12. Chapter 12: Without You

Chapter 12 – Without You

Harry carefully placed the last block in place; he was safe behind his walls again. Then he carefully crafted an outward persona, one that would hide the bunker he'd built for his emotions, a façade that would stand up to even Hermione's scrutiny.

He could act like someone who could be her friend, but never anything more.

Part of him coolly congratulated himself for building such an elaborate emotional bomb shelter.

Part of him was clawing with bloodied, broken fingernails, howling to be let out.

_Clarity. _

_It's all about clarity. I can focus now on what's important – finding who killed my wife and my best friend._

)O(

Upton Stebbins was on pins and needles. His boss, the most difficult and demanding mage he'd ever worked for was, well, _off_ somehow.

In the months leading up to what Upton would later refer to as 'the change', Lef' tenant Potter had been himself, that is to say, a right bastard.

If his erk did something right, Harry would chastise him for not doing it better.

Upton came in early and made sure he was the last of the Auror Basics to leave – and the Lef' tenant asked him why he was such a poor time manager that he couldn't finish his assigned duties within the confines of a normal working shift.

In the annual AB tournament, Upton had won four of the five combat spellcasting competitions outright, and come in a close second on the fifth.

"Stebbins," Harry had asked, "do you know what we call the guy who comes in second in the real world?"

"No sir."

"The dearly departed."

Then it all stopped.

Upton didn't mind at first, glad of the break, but after a few days he started to see a disturbingly predictable pattern.

Lef' tenant Potter would have Coffee and a croissant at a quarter to seven. Walk through the day's assignments; say something uplifting to at least three people, always different people, post a copy of a political cartoon from the Sun or the Mirror, strategically placed to offer the page three girl a modicum of modesty.

Assign patrols for the day; finish the brief by telling everyone to "Be careful out there."

Retire to his office to review clues in the Weasley-Potter case.

Upton Stebbins felt he was waiting for the other shoe to drop. He reviewed the facts, stared at the small, inscribed stone on his desk, and chuckled.

The stone was a flat, river rock upon which someone had emblazoned, "Eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth."

Either the Lef' tenant was a polyjuiced imposter or he'd fallen back into his addiction.

By early Monday morning, three weeks after 'the change', Upton had had enough. He was reviewing Harry's calendar and saw yet another anomaly. Every Monday, since forever it seemed, Lef' tenant Potter would share lunch with his bushy-haired best friend. Only this Monday's lunch date was over-written. For an interview in Cheswick that couldn't be pertinent to the case.

"Sir, aren't you taking tea with Mrs. Granger-Weasley today?"

The Lef' tenant smiled and said, "Bugger all, I did forget. Stebbins, would you please tell Hermione that I'm going to be out of the office today."

Upton Stebbins steeled himself, "No, sir."

Harry just kept leafing through interviews.

"I said, _no_, sir."

"I heard you, Stebbins, okay, it's not fair to have you make excuses for me, is it?"

At that moment Upton knew what he had to do. "I believe I'll just pop over to the Muggle Liaison Office for a moment, sir. If I see Mrs. Granger-Weasley I'll be sure to pass on your message."

Harry didn't look up from his research, "Um hum, thank you Stebbins, good man."

The Auror Basic practically ran to the lift.

"Hello, Elaine, is the Deputy Director in?"

"Of course, is this urgent?"

"I think so."

Stebbins looked around, then whispered furtively, "So who is it?"

Margaret Elaine Roos looked puzzled.

"You said you fancied someone in the office and I thought I might see if the bloke is good enough for my old classmate."

"You're the detective, Upton, detect."

"I'll have a go after my meeting with Mrs. Granger-Weasley."

"This way, then."

A double-knock on the door got a friendly "Come in."

"Oh, hullo, Auror Stebbins, isn't it?"

"Yes, Deputy Director, thank you for seeing me on such short notice." He took his seat as directed. Not one to mince words he said, "I'm concerned about Lef' tenant Potter, Madam Deputy Director."

"Please, call me Hermione. 'Madam Deputy Director' sounds too much of a mouthful."

Stebbins grinned, "Only if you'll call me Upton, ma'am."

"Fair enough, Upton, now, what about Harry?"

"When was the last time you spoke with him?"

She looked pensive, "We speak almost every day, passing in the hallways, the occasional lunch or tea. . ."

"You don't really talk though, do you?"

Hermione looked surprised, "No, not really, not about anything of any consequence. He's become quite the expert on fog and the weather lately, seems all our conversations revolve around trivia."

"Lef' tenant Potter has been missing lunch and tea more often than not lately, hasn't he?"

Hermione felt a lead weight settle in her stomach.

"I-I'm sure he's very busy."

"When he _does_ see you, he doesn't talk about whatever case he's working on, does he?"

"No, I know he's working on, well, _our_ case, but I just assumed he had no new developments to report."

He didn't tell you about his old house elf?

"Kreacher? No, what about him?"

"He's dead, apparently killed himself, in some kind of house elf ritual."

Hermione was horrified, "Oh no, Harry hasn't said a word, he must be devastated!"

"That's part of the problem, ma'am, he's not. And he hasn't said a word to you or anyone else about Kreacher, he was – upset – when he first found the old elf, he even let me go with him to the cottage by the sea where we buried the little guy."

Hermione nodded, "Shell Cottage, on the coast."

Upton soldiered on, "He didn't tell you about the cognivores?"

"Those floating brains in the Department of Mysteries? No."

"Or that your neighbor, Mister Kemp, is dead."

All the blood drained from her face.

"Or that Kemp appears to have been attacked by one or more cognivores before he died?"

In a very small voice she said, "No."

"Madam Deputy Director, I may find myself in need of a job very shortly, but if I _am_ sacked, I'll know it's for a good cause."

Upton took a deep breath, and then let it out. On the one hand he was about to betray his superior, on the other hand it was necessary, necessary for Lef' tenant Potter, for Potter's career, for his family and his friends. Upton just hoped that one day, in spite of all this, the Lef' tenant would remember his 'erk' was trying to do what was right, and not what was easy.

The young auror summed up, "He's crawled back into his occlumency armor again; he's just been a bit cleverer about it this time. It took me a few weeks to see it, but he's a good teacher, and I started to see a pattern."

"He got predictable, didn't he?"

"Yes ma'am. Very unlike himself, that is."

"What can I do?"

"Do? _You_ can do what I can't, Hermione. You can go into Harry Potter's office, his inner sanctum, and rant and scream and slap the shite out of him if that's what it takes! He's not doing himself, the department, or his family any favors by locking up the best part of himself."

Hermione looked puzzled.

"His _passion_. His passion for justice, his passion for his family and, begging your pardon, ma'am, his great longing for you."

Without even realizing it, Upton had risen to his feet and placed both hands on the Deputy Director's desk.

"My Lef' tenant has shut us all out: you, me, his children, everyone."

Hermione's face morphed from 'little girl lost' to curious to 'puzzled, but pensive' to irritated to angry in the course of ten seconds. She was just about to the point of 'charge the blockhouse!' when Upton lifted his hand.

"Keep that mad going for just a little while, Hermione. I need to see the Lef' tenant for ten seconds before you do."

Hermione continued a slow burn as she nodded her acquiescence.

Stebbins exited the Deputy Director's office and Elaine Grabbed him and kissed him, hard.

"Thank you, Upton; she's been lost without him these past few weeks."

Stebbins grinned and said, "Anytime, Elaine." Then, looking back toward Hermione's office, he added, "And I know who you fancy."

She looked ready to panic, "You won't say anything, will you, especially not to _her?"_

"No, I won't. But I don't blame you. She's easy to love."

Margaret Elaine Roos sighed, and looked longingly at Hermione's office. "Yes she is."

"If you ever decide you like blokes, or if you just need a friend with no agenda, you know where to find me."

"I just might, but don't hold your breath, _Up Townne."_

"Ungh, I will pay you money to not say that again, bad enough I had to put up with it in school."

She kissed his cheek, "Go on, tiger."

As he walked toward the exit she said, "I'll be at the Leaky Cauldron after work today."

"I just might, but don't hold your breath, _Maggie!"_

Stebbins walked, uninvited, into Potter's office and placed his badge on the lieutenant's desk.

"What's this, Stebbins?"

"You might want this after you see your next visitor."

Stebbins exited and Hermione, full of righteous fury, entered.

"Harry James Potter, you've gone and built your bloody occlumency stockade around y'self again, haven't you, HAVEN'T YOU!"

Very calmly, Harry rose and said, "Please, have a seat, Hermione."

"No I don't want to have a bloody seat, what I want is for my best friend, the father of my sons from another mother, to come out of his _God dammed_ hidey hole!"

"I'm sure you're mistaken, Hermione. I'm fine, the boys are fine."

"No, you're not fine, _Mister_ Potter."

She placed both hands on his desk and leaned forward, "I never thought I'd say this, Harry Potter – you are a _coward."_

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"_COWARD!_ You're afraid to feel, because it hurts. Well guess what, Harry, life hurts! Bad things happen to good people for no good reason. People we love don't stay with us forever and we have to hurt, and go on hurting because that's what we have to do day after _bloody_ day."

She sat in the chair facing his desk, then fell forward onto her crossed arms, sobbing.

Harry walked around to put a comforting hand on her shoulder, but she cringed away.

"Don't you dare. Don't you DARE! _Coward!"_

"I'm not. . ."

"Are you _trying_ to emulate Dumbledore? He was an occlumens too, aloof, ice-water in his veins. Oh he appeared grandfatherly and benign, but more than once he sent a teenage boy into battle against a dark wizard with over fifty years experience on him. When you shut yourself away from your emotions, your _passions,_ you become what you hate, someone who is convinced he knows what's best for everyone else in his life. Christ, Potter, don't you know what that makes you?"

Harry shook his head, "No."

"A God damned manipulator, just like Dumbledore."

"But I'm not. . ."

"You can try to convince yourself that you're doing something good and stupidly noble by shutting us all out, but I tell you this, as of right now. We're through."

Hermione stood and turned to leave. She didn't turn around as she added, "Someday I hope to God you remember that _you left us first!"_

Harry took a deep cleansing breath, checked his walls, noticed a few cracks but otherwise okay, then said, "I'm sorry, Hermione."

Hermione didn't turn around, "You may call me Deputy Directory Granger-Weasley. Only my _friends_ call me Hermione."

He bowed his head, "But, what about Albie and Jimmy and Rosie and . . . _us."_

She spun to face him and could almost see the cracks widening in his defenses.

"Us? There is no 'us.' Bloody few of us are _cursed_ with the ability to do occlumency, Potter. The vast majority of us have to walk through life naked, with all our hurt and pain and suffering on display for all the world to see. Maybe someday you'll see that's the only way to live, _really_ live in this world. When you can walk down these halls naked, like the rest of the human race, there might be an _us,_ but not until."

Hermione dabbed tear-filled eyes with the end of her sleeve then, with chilling calm said, "Goodbye, Lieutenant."

Screaming he could take, but the cold finality of that 'goodbye' shook Harry to his foundations.

"Goodbye, Deputy Director."

Upton stepped into Harry's office and asked, "Sir?"

Harry stared at the door for several long minutes before he shook himself, then regarded his erk.

"Nothing happened that I didn't know would happen, Stebbins, here." he said, returning the brass Auror Basic badge, "You'll need this."

"Fine, Lef' tenant, time for our PT." In a sotto voice he added, "And Plan 'B'."

Harry looked at his watch, "So it is, see you downstairs."

When Harry entered the gym he was surprised to see Neville Longbottom in his Aikido costume. He was deep in conversation with Stebbins, who wore DMLE sweats.

"I contacted Mr. Longbottom shortly after my little, um, _training _demonstrationat St. Mungo's." Stebbins explained.

Neville, continued, "I've been offering classes in unarmed combat to the Department. Stebbins here has been instrumental in making it happen.

Ten aurors joined the impromptu class, ranging in age and experience from probationary, like Stebbins, to veterans.

"Care to be my sparring partner, Harry?"

"Sure." Harry went to change.

"Are your sure about this, Upton, he seems fine."

"_Very_ sure, Mister Longbottom."

Six minutes later Neville sighed as Harry stepped up to the mat.

"Should I bow?" Harry asked.

"Sure."

As Harry bowed from the waist Neville took a handful of Harry's sweatshirt, spun about and dropped to one knee, taking a startled Harry down to the mat in the process.

"That's the 'three foot rule,' ladies and gentlemen. If your opponent gets within three feet of you, his arse is yours."

He helped Harry up.

"How many of you keep your wands in a wrist holster?"

Several hands went up.

"Harry, are you wearing yours?"

He nodded warily.

"Go for it."

Harry did and was amazed at how quickly Neville had his wrist in an excruciating grip that prevented him from grasping it. The wand fell to the floor. While still holding Harry's wrist, Neville gave it a half-twist, bringing Harry to his knees.

"Ow!"

"Oh, sorry, Harry."

"If you take your opponent's weapons away they will usually not give you any trouble, even if you don't have your wand on you. I happen to know of one Auror Lef' tenant who favors a muggle firearm when in the field. Harry, do you have your revolver with you?"

He started to say "No" when Stebbins handed him the pistol.

"Apparently I do."

"Please remove the ammunition, even the _boy-who-lived_ isn't faster than a speeding bullet."

"You know I don't like that name, Neville."

"Oh, sorry. Forgot. All empty then? Good. It's a large caliber weapon so you have to extend your arm to fire it, don't you."

"Usually."

"Pretend that I'm a threat, draw your pistol."

Harry stepped back a pace and brought his Colt Forty-five to bear on Neville's forehead.

At least, that was the plan.

As the pistol came up Neville bobbed left and grabbed the barrel of the pistol, turning it away from Harry's palm, then all the way around til it pointed in Harry's direction. The motion overextended the finger in the trigger guard. Everyone heard the unmistakable sound of the hammer falling, fortunately, on an empty chamber, while the barrel was poking Harry's chest.

Those closest to Harry and Neville also heard the sound of several finger bones being dislocated.

"Ahhh! Shite, Neville!"

"Oh, sorry, Harry. Is there a healer in the house?"

As a DMLE medic healed Harry's finger, one of the veteran aurors asked, "Can you teach us that? I can see where it would be right useful against a wand as well as a pistol."

"Sure, everyone, pick a partner."

"Upton, you're with Harry."

As Neville described the techniques for disarming an armed opponent Harry whispered, "I know what you're trying to do, Stebbins, and it won't work."

"Sir?"

"You're deliberately trying to get me angry, to lose control. It won't work."

Neville shouted "Go! Hey, Harry?"

Harry looked at Neville and Upton bitch-slapped his superior officer, spinning him on the spot.

"You alright, sir?"

"Cheap shot, auror, want to try that while I'm looking?"

Stebbins grinned.

Neville shouted, "Go!"

Harry prepared to block another strike, but Stebbins stomped hard on his foot, then brought his knee up into Harry's groin. While Harry was bent forward, the Auror Basic, back-handed him, spinning him one-hundred-eighty degrees.

Harry roared and charged Upton only to be taken down by Neville.

Harry was screaming obscenities and literally foaming at the mouth.

"Stebbins!" he raged, "You are so _fucking_ sacked!"

The rest of the aurors stared slack-jawed at the drama unfolding before them. Upton raised his hands and told the group, "All part of the demonstration. Mr. Longbottom is just demonstrating methods for controlling a, ah, _difficult_ assailant without the use of magic. The Lef' tenant is just getting into character."

Neville kept Harry in a rather painful take-down hold, such that whenever Harry tried to get up, or roll over, or indeed, move at all, something would press a nerve center or twist, causing a searing pain like an electric shock.

Rather than try to calm Harry down, Neville urged him on, "That's right, that's the ticket, don't hold back, don't hold it in. Let it out, let it all out!"

Harry was reduced to a blubbering, cursing mass within seconds. Whatever emotional shields he'd had were well and truly gone.

"Class, dismissed."

By the time Harry had regained control the gym was empty except for Neville and Upton.

Very calmly, Harry told his Auror Basic, "My office, one hour."

Stebbins nodded and left.

"All right, Harry?" Neville asked.

Harry wiped the sweat and tears from his face with both hands and said, "No, mate, I'm anything but all right." He looked at the best friend he had left in the world, "It hurts so fucking much I just want to chuck it all, y'know?"

Neville nodded.

Harry's eyes narrowed as he said, "You're a right bastard – you know that?"

Neville smiled and nodded again.

"Thanks."

)O(

"Stebbins, get your _sorry_ arse in here!"

Upton Stebbins, Auror Basic, stood at his lieutenant's desk at attention.

"Your badge, auror."

Stebbins sighed, but handed over his 'AB' brassard.

"You can't wear two badges at the same time, erk, it looks pretentious."

Harry handed him the silver badge of a fully vetted auror, then held out his hand, "You're a good man, Upton."

Shocked, the newly promoted Auror grasped Harry's hand.

Harry's face lost its scowl.

"The last thing I need is some sycophantic 'yes man' hanging around me. You had the guts to stand up to me when no one else did, and you saw how much I was screwing up my own life, personal and professional and you did something about it. Thank you, and congratulations, Auror Detective Stebbins."

"Yes, sir, I mean, thank you, sir!"

"Hey, you earned it."

"We're just glad to have you back, sir."

"Yeah, well, now I have the _really_ hard task before me."

"Sir?"

"I have to face Hermione."

"Ah. Sorry, Lef' tenant. Can't help you there, sir."

"You've done quite enough for one day, _Detective."_

)O(

The Muggle Liaison Offices were set up very much like the DMLE, a large open area with rows of desks for the admin staff and offices for the senior staff. It was nearly the end of the day, but everyone was still working away at the seemingly endless stacks of paperwork. On the other side of this great expanse of desks was the office of the Deputy Director of Muggle Affairs.

Harry sighed, there was nothing for it. He knew what he had to do.

He removed his forearm holster and placed it, with his wand on a small table.

He shrugged off his cloak, then his tie, shirt and undervest. Followed by his shoes and socks.

Bare chested, he neatly folded the clothing and placed it next to his wand.

About this time a nervous tittering started from the nearest desks.

When he dropped his pants there were gasps and some laughter.

When he stepped out of his boxers there was applause, whistles, catcalls and cheering.

Hermione Jane Granger-Weasley, Deputy Director of Muggle Affairs was _not_ having a good day. She was an emotional wreck following her confrontation with Harry and now someone was in her offices creating a commotion – disrupting her well-ordered domain.

Well, she would see about that.

She slammed her office door open and yelled, "What the _bloody_ hell . . ."

Then froze.

Harry was walking toward her, shoulders back, head high, tears streaming down both scarlet cheeks.

Completely, from top to bottom, starkers.

He stopped in front of her, fell to his knees his arms outstretched, and said, "For all the world to see, Hermione."

_He's gone completely round the twist_, she thought, and then remembered what she'd said earlier that same day, _When you can walk down these halls naked, like the rest of the human race, there might be an _us_, but not until. _

"Someone lend us a cloak," she huffed, then, staring at his 'endowment', added, "a _long_ cloak!"

Three cloaks sailed through the air in her general direction, she grabbed the first one she could and threw it over his shoulders.

"C'mere you!" she said as she dropped to her knees, pulling him into a tight embrace, to the delighted cheers, applause and catcalls of her entire department. Tears flowed freely as she allowed Harry to help her to her feet.

Stupidly brave and noble, magnificently tender Gryffindor that he was, he was back.

And she'd be damned if she was going to let him go, _ever_ again.


	13. Chapter 13: Working up an Appetite

Chapter 13 –

Warning: this chapter contains loads of fluffy goodness, wrapped up in a nice lemony ending. Descriptions follow of two twenty-somethings desperately in lurve. You have been warned!

)O(

Hermione escorted Harry into her office and, just before closing the door, told her staff, "If any of this becomes common knowledge I'll find out who gabbed and transfer you to Centaur Liason, _permanently."_

No one dared doubt her.

Safely behind her office door she fell into Harry's arms, not caring that the only thing he wore was a comically short robe, and nothing else.

"I'm not going to even try to live without you anymore, Hermione, the only way I'll ever leave you again is if you tell me to, and mean it."

"Never going to happen."

A discrete knock at the door and Elaine entered with an enigmatic little smile. Pointedly not looking at the embracing couple, she placed Harry's clothing and shoes on the small conference table before exiting soundlessly.

"Um, Hermione, would you mind?"

"What?"

"Ah, turning around while I get dressed?"

She snorted into his barely covered chest, "_Now_ you decide you're shy, after exposing yourself to me and my entire staff?"

"Please?"

"Honestly!" she huffed, but turned to give him a moment's privacy.

"Thanks."

Dinner that night was a joyous occasion at Godric's hollow, as Mummy and Daddy were finally together to stay.

"Just like they s'posed ta be!" squealed a delighted Rosie.

The boys had missed her terribly – they'd badgered Harry daily, begging him to bring Mummy home – not 'Mummy Mynee', but _Mummy_.

Rose clung to Harry like a limpet before and after dinner, and would have during if Hermione hadn't insisted that she sit in her booster. They compromised by letting her sit so that her chair touched _her_ Daddy's.

Following dinner the children had fun splashing each other in the large tub, after which they all settled on the big, comfy couch in matching pajamas, robes and baffies - all five of them, of course. Hermione was flanked by Harry on one side and James on the other. Rose was in Harry's lap and Albus sat in Hermione's so there was plenty of room. Hermione was reading Patricia Wrede's _Dealing with Dragons_ aloud, with Harry taking the male parts.

"Uncle Charlie says dragons don't talk like they do in the books." James said, sagely. "He says they're just big crocodiles with wings."

"Animals don't talk like they do in cartoons neither." Rose observed.

"I don't know about that." Harry said, remembering conversations he'd had with snakes before he'd lost his parselspeech. "Animals _do_ talk, but just not in ways we can understand."

"Hedwig always let you know what she wanted, Harry."

"Yeah." He agreed, a little sadly.

She studied his wistful expression and, being the foremost expert on all things Harry Potter, she deemed it was time to ask the question.

"We should get an owl, don't you think?" she suggested.

All three children practically sang in chorus, "Oh, Daddy, can we get an owl? _Pleeeeeaaaaaassssseeeeee!"_

Harry ran his fingers through his perpetually unruly hair, "I dunno, it's, well, it's hard, y'know?"

"James, Rose, Albus, you know how much Daddy misses Hedwig."

James frowned, lost in thought.

"You think if you get another owl that it would be like forgetting Hedwig?"

"We were very close."

"Close as you were to our Mummy?"

"In some ways, yes."

"But we got a new mummy now, right?"

Hermione placed a comforting arm around Harry's shoulders, "Yes." She said, "You do."

Harry felt as if his heart would burst hearing her say that, he was happier than he'd been at anytime before in his life. The only thought that shone brighter than knowing Hermione would share his life from that moment on was the memory of the birth of his sons.

James broke his reverie by asking, "So what's the difference?"

Harry looked at his son – whose eyes shone with anticipation, then at Hermione – who knew him better than anyone, and smiled.

"No difference, son. None at all."

"We can see what Eyelop's Owl Emporium has available." Hermione suggested. "It can't hurt to look."

All three children chorused, "Yay!"

They finished the chapter, and then it was three Bs time: Brush the teeth time and Beddy-Bye time.

Harry and Hermione sat by the fire, cuddling.

"Oh God, but I've missed this." She cooed.

"Me too." He agreed.

"Tired?" she asked.

"A little." He answered.

"Bed?" she suggested.

"Sure." He agreed.

"Sleep?" she asked, hopefully.

"I'm afraid that's all I can do for now, Hermione." He said, yawning prodigiously. "It's been a hell of a long day."

"C'mon, _Daddy_, I'll tuck you in."

"Can we snuggle tonight?"

"Of course."

"Hmmm, half a tic, love, there's someone we need to call."

Harry threw a pinch of powder into the fireplace and called "Curse-breaker Weasley."

Fleur's face appeared in the fire, "Oui?"

"Hello sister dear, how would you like to watch our little Granger-Weasley-Potters tomorrow morning?"

"Oui, I can be there with Victoire as early as seven o'clock. What is ze occasion?"

"Well, um." Harry stammered.

Hermione came to his rescue, "We plan to be very _busy_ tomorrow morning."

The half-veela had easily detected the intent behind Harry's request, she was just enjoying watching him squirm. In truth, Fleur had never understood why Hermione had gone to Ronald in the first place when she was _so_ much better suited to Harry.

Fleur decided to let her brother and sister-in-law off their tenterhooks and smiled, "It is about time, you two! I will be over at six-thirty, and I do not expect to see you up before noon, _non?"_

"Thank you." Harry said, sincerely, "Thank you for understanding."

"What is to understand? You boze are being very French about zis, I approve, of courze. I think, perhaps, I may leave leettle Victoire at home, _non?_ She is half-English, and may not understand."

Hermione laughed, "Thank you, sister dear, love you!"

Fleur smiled again and replied, "How could you not? I steel have it, _non?_ Get some rest tonight; you will need to have ze strength tomorrow. Love you boze! _Au revoir!"_

)O(

Harry found himself nervous as a bride as he turned down the duvet and sheets. His 'fluffing' the pillows bordered on abuse as he felt he had to be doing something with his hands.

Hermione leaned against the bathroom's doorframe and smiled, "I think they're fluffed, dear."

She pulled the tie to loosen her house-robe, then shrugged it off and placed it on the bedpost of the side of the bed nearest the loo.

She wore a comfortable, powder-blue, thin cotton nightie that stopped mid-thigh.

"Is my taking this side okay, Harry? I'll probably need to get up at some time during the night and it's easier this way."

Harry was speechless.

"Harry?"

"Um, yes?"

"What is it?"

"You're just so . . . beautiful."

Hermione knew, of course, that Harry thought a pregnant woman was the most beautiful thing in the world. She turned to let him see her profile. She had the smooth, second trimester bulge in her midsection, which she emphasized by pulling her night dress fabric taught about her expanded middle.

She smiled.

For the first time in what seemed like forever she felt adored, and loved and damn it, sexy as hell.

Harry's higher brain functions seemed to shut down and he was on the verge of drooling when Hermione said, "Thank you, Harry."

He shook his head, "No, Hermione, thank _you."_

She got between the sheets and asked, "Coming?"

Harry bit down on the inside of his cheeks so that he wouldn't say the obvious, stupid thing and spoil the moment. He managed a smile and a nod.

As he joined her she said, "Harry, will you start off sleeping on your back, please?"

"Sure."

He did and Hermione draped herself along his left side like a human blanket.

She was so warm and soft and fragrant.

Harry pulled her into a tender kiss, full of promise, promise of passion to come.

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you too, Harry."

He stroked her back as she lay half-on and half-off him while she nuzzled his neck and shoulder. Soon she was breathing deeply, regularly, peacefully.

"I am the luckiest bloke on the planet." He insisted just before dropping off to sleep himself.

Somewhere around four in the morning Hermione groaned and rolled out of bed, padding to the loo. She was thankful to be over the morning sickness phase, but little Emma Ginevra was starting to crowd her bladder.

As she tugged her knickers down she was amused to see she'd wet them, not that she'd peed herself, it was simply that she was so randy these days, all she had to do was think of Harry, his emerald-green eyes and those raven locks and her Bartholin's glands would go into overdrive, along with her libido.

She could cast a simple _turgio_ spell on her knickers, but that would mean fumbling about for her wand in the dark in an unfamiliar room, and she was pretty sure Harry was a light sleeper so she just shrugged and tossed the evidence of her arousal into the laundry pile and returned to bed.

"Everything okay, love?"

"Small bladder syndrome, Harry, I'm afraid it will only get worse from here on. Sorry to wake you."

"S'okay, I'm a light sleeper but I go right back to sleep - comes in right handy for those two AM feedings."

This made Hermione smile for another reason, her first husband, whom she had loved dearly, was pretty much useless when it came to tending to Rose as a baby. She knew Harry would probably be up before she was and have the nappy changed and little Emma fed before she could even get up.

Harry turned over and Hermione spooned up behind him and thought, "I'm the luckiest girl in the world." Just before she nodded off.

Morning dawned and Harry found himself wrapped around Hermione, whose nightie had ridden up during the night exposing her bare bum. If that wasn't bad enough his right hand was, at that moment, the living bra to Hermione's right breast.

He tried to remove the offending hand but Hermione grabbed his wrist and placed it back on her incredibly soft, full boob.

"I like it there."

Harry smiled, gave her a playful squeeze and said, "I do too, but I just remembered, men have bladders too."

Hermione groaned, "You just had to say bladder, didn't you?"

She was out of bed like a shot, heading for the loo. Showing a nicely rounded arse along the way.

Harry waited for her to return and gave her a quick hug and kiss before taking care of his own hydrostatic pressure issues.

Hermione touched her lips, _that was nice, and different, _she thought._ How was that different?_

No morning stubble, and no morning mouth. Harry had charmed his overnight facial hair off _and_ sweetened his breath before giving her a good-morning kiss. She fumbled for her wand on the nightstand and gave herself minty fresh breath. When Harry came back she was going to give him such a brilliant snog!

Harry returned, and Hermione thought his t-shirt and boxers suited him.

"C'mere, you!" she said, pulling him into a tight embrace.

She kissed him. Nothing unusual about that. They'd been giving each other filial kisses since fourth year. But this kiss was different.

She kissed him properly for the first time.

In that kiss she poured her heart and soul and dreams and expectations for a long and wonderful life with the man she loved.

Harry felt the love and the longing and returned both ten-fold. It practically took Hermione's breath away to realize how much this wonderful man loved her.

"Harry, love." She said between kisses, "Don't you think we've waited long enough?"

He smiled and nodded. Then began to trail kisses down her neck, to the valley between her full breasts. Hermione shrugged the nightie off her shoulders baring both pregnancy-enhanced breasts.

Harry was in boob heaven, laving both nipples with the flat of his tongue. Hermione shuddered; she'd only been intimate with two men in her life. The first, Victor Krum, had introduced her to the delights of non-penetrative sex at the tender age of fifteen. Ron had been, well, _enthusiastic_, if not particularly skilled. She'd loved it when a lover paid attention to her breasts, but now, as pregnancy made them even _more_ responsive she was practically gushing with anticipation as Harry trailed kisses down her rounded belly heading for her sopping wet folds.

She put both hands on his chin and drew him up to her face, "As much as I know I'm going to enjoy what you plan to do to me with that marvelous tongue of yours, what I really, _really_ need right now is a first-rate _fuck!"_

Harry thought of all the times he'd dreamed of doing just that, then shook his head and said, "No."

Hermione felt a rushing in her ears as her world started to crash in on her.

She just managed to squeak out her questioning, "No?"

"No, Hermione. I love you. I think I've always loved you. I will never just fuck you, but. . ."

"But?"

"But I will love you, with my heart and soul and mind and body, I will love you, I will never fuck you, but I will _love_ you until you beg me to stop!"

Hermione smiled, "That long? I love you too, Harry, please, make love to me."

Harry smiled and kissed her tenderly, losing himself in the taste of her, the feel of her, the scent of her, until Hermione pushed on his shoulders to break the kiss.

"Um, Harry? Now would be good."

He snapped out of his trance, knelt upright and pushed his boxers down to his knees, and then knee-walked out of them, tossing them aside.

Hermione could only think of one thing to say when she saw Harry's organ at full-mast.

"Dear Lord, for what we are about to receive, may we be _truly_ grateful!"

"Amen!"

"For God's sake, Harry, don't tease me anymore, I have to feel you inside me!"

"Your slightest wish, milady, is my most ardent command."

"Oh my Gawd, Harry!"

Harry found a nice steady rhythm, not wanting to just pound her into the mattress, as much as both of them would have enjoyed that, but he was very careful of the precious cargo she carried and besides, he could keep up this pace for an hour if he so chose.

She held back a "Squeeeeeee!" as she shuddered her climax.

"Hermione, sweetie?"

She laid back, breathing like she'd run a marathon.

"Yes, Harry?"

"I cast a _colloportus_ on the door and added a one-way silencing charm as well."

"So?"

"So you can make as much noise as you'd like."

She pulled herself up as he was still buried deep within her and kissed him furiously.

"Get to work, Mister Potter, I want to cum at least two more times before breakfast!"

He grinned and said, "Oh my Goddess, I think I've created a monster!"

"Less talk, more _action,_ Harry!"

A little more than two hours later the happy couple lay sated at last.

"Well, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, I guess you'll have to marry me now."

The grin on Hermione's face would easily have lighted Buckingham Palace.

"Oh I suppose, if you insist, Mister Potter."

Harry's smile was equally radiant.

"Hey, what will your name be after the wedding? Hermione Jane Granger-Weasley-Potter?"

"Nope, just Hermione Potter."

"You don't have to do that, you don't have to give up your name."

"Precisely." She said with a grin.

"I'm afraid I don't follow, sweetheart."

"Ron kept going on and on about how I wasn't going to be 'Hermione Granger' anymore, that I'd be a Weasley. He made such a deal out of it that I gave him his ring back and told him that if that's how he felt about it then the wedding was off.

"The whole Weasley family had a meeting about it. As the head of house, Arthur insisted that I could keep my maiden name, but that he'd appreciate it if I'd add Weasley to the end, hence, Granger-Weasley."

"So how about Granger-Potter?"

"Nope, I like the sound of Hermione Jane Potter."

"I'm confused."

Hermione rolled onto his chest and kissed him soundly, "It's because you treasure me for who I am, because you're perfectly willing to let me keep my name that it's become a non-issue."

Harry sighed, "If I live to be two hundred, I'll never understand women. So, when can we have the wedding?"

It was Hermione's turn to sigh, "Wizard custom says the widow must observe a period of mourning, and I – _we_ need to respect that."

"Oh, so I need to cancel the caterer's for tomorrow?"

Her eyes grew wide as saucers, "Harry, you didn't!"

"Actually, you're right. I didn't." he said, then ducked as Hermione began whacking him about the head and shoulders with his own pillow.

Laughing he said, between blows, "The look" – whack – "on your face" – whack – "it's priceless!"

He pulled her into a warm embrace, "I love you!"

"Prat! No fair trying to distract me!"

"So, how long?"

Hermione took a deep breath, then let it out, saying, "A year and a day."

"Fine, we'll maintain your flat in Kensington. You can go home at the end of the day and then floo here."

"I'll have to be seen around Kensington with Rose from time to time for appearance sake, but yes, it's a deal."

"I need you to promise me something." Harry said, suddenly very serious.

"What is that?" She asked.

"Not to go wandering around Kensington alone, I don't think it's safe there."

Hermione nodded, "Upton told me about Paul Kemp."

"Promise me?" Harry persisted.

"Of course," she said, knowing he needed reassuring, "Let's kiss on it."

"Don't you mean 'shake on it'?"

"Nope, kissing is more fun, and you are a very good kisser."

"Cho didn't think so."

"Cho was an idiot."

"I couldn't have stayed with her in any case."

"Why's that, Harry?"

"She was insanely jealous of you."

"So?"

"Hermione, you've been my best friend since I was eleven. There's just no way I was ever going to _not_ be your friend, no matter what anyone might say or think."

She melted at the open, honest manner in which he'd said that simple truth.

Both their stomachs, grumbling in unison, reminded them that they needed to be up.

As Hermione headed for the bath she smiled, "Would you like to conserve water?"

"Um, sure. How?"

"Bathe with a friend, of course."

They showered, having too much fun lathering and rinsing each other off, then repeating.

It was closer to lunchtime when they finally exited the bedroom to find Rose and Albus and James concentrating on staying inside the lines while _"Tante_ Fleur" watched from a discrete distance. Their sister-in-law smiled as she sensed the couple's contentment. "Will you be wanting breakfast or lunch or tea?"

"Thanks for coming, Fleur." Hermione said, "I knew we could count on you."

"Oui, oui, we French understand our way around grief, and _Grand-mere_

Molly would not be so understanding, _non?"_

Harry smiled sheepishly and said, "Uh, no." Then turned to the three sprogs on the floor and called out, "Morning Granger-Weasley-Potters!"

"Daddy! Mummy!"

The three children scrambled up and over to their parents.

"Did you have brekkers?"

"Oh yeah." James offered, "Ages ago."

"So you're hungry again?"

"Yeah!" all three said in unison.

"Fleur, anything on for lunch?"

The French Veela smiled broadly, "Sandwiches are on the sideboard, sister dear, and we have pumpkin, apple, pineapple and orange juices to drink."

Harry beamed, "Brilliant, thank you _soeur aimee_. You're the best!"

Fleur smiled, buffed her fingernails on her robe and said, "We aims to please, _mon frere."_

There were enough sandwiches to feed a small army, or five very hungry mages, the children were growing like weeds, of course, and Mummy and Daddy, well, let's just say they'd worked up an appetite.

Everyone had their fill.

)O(

It liked the fog.

The thick, humid, moisturizing, concealing fog.

Sooner or later _she_ would have to leave the house by way of the front door.

_The force that keeps us from re-entering the Weasley flat will not keep her from us forever._

_Hermione will come to us._

_Then it will finally be over._

Red, ribbon-like tendrils reached nearly to the ground.

Waiting patiently for the next meal to trap.

It was hungry.


	14. Chapter 14: Stakeout

Chapter 14 – Stakeout

Harry and Hermione took their children to the Burrow, ensuring they arrived at different times so as not to give the impression they were _together_ together. The Elder Weasleys were thrilled to watch over their treasured grandchildren while the son and daughter in law were at work.

The off-the-record couple stopped by the Ministry Tea Shoppe for a morning cuppa. They enjoyed the semi-privacy of one of the tiny tables as they discussed child-minding options.

"We could enroll them in the Ministry Day Care program." Hermione suggested.

"That might not be a bad idea," Harry agreed, "It would give them a chance to socialize, y'know, spend time around other magical children their own age."

"I really wanted them to interact with non-magical children as well."

"They don't exactly fit in with ordinary children their own age."

"Ordinary?" Hermione asked, grinning.

"I don't like the word muggle. And the US equivalent, 'mundane', sounds slightly insulting." Harry explained, "Besides, if non-magical children are ordinary, that makes ours _extraordinary_, right?"

Hermione had to agree.

At just over two years of age, Albus and Rose were articulate, well on their way to becoming literate, more like children of four or five, and James was already reading at primary school levels. This was partly because of their magical heritage but also due to the fact that Harry and Hermione were constantly engaging the children in enriching activities, reading with them, and talking to them in ways that encouraged higher level thinking. Most of their fun and games activities involved logic and problem solving, with the occasional koan thrown in to help develop critical thinking skills.

"I could hire a nanny." Harry suggested.

"Only if I get to interview her, I've heard stories."

Harry looked at her with raised eyebrows, "Stories?"

"Young girls, of limited means, take jobs as governesses to worm their way into the hearts and minds of unsuspecting, rich patrons."

"You're joking."

"No, Harry. There are a statistically significant number of marriages that have ended in divorce, with the husband throwing the wife over for the nanny."

"Hmmmm, a sweet young thing. . ."

Hermione swatted Harry's arm, "Prat!"

"We could engage a house elf." Harry suggested.

"Or you could be a stay-at-home dad, _daddy!"_

Harry's eyes seemed to glaze over at the suggestion. "A full time dad. What a concept."

"Well, why not?" Hermione asked.

"All right, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, you've got yourself a deal, just as soon as this one case is cleared up, I'm putting in for an indefinite leave of absence."

Hermione gasped, "Are you sure, Harry?"

He took both her hands in his and said, "More sure than anything, except for _the_ one thing."

"And that is?" she asked.

"_The_ one thing, first and foremost is, of course, I love you."

A single tear ran down her cheek, "Oh, Harry. Do you know what you do to me when you say that?"

He reached forward with a tissue to dab the tear from her face. "I think so, that's why I'll never get tired of saying it."

"Damn you, Harry, if we weren't in plain view of the whole world I'd kiss you stupid!"

Harry crossed his eyes and made a face, "Too late!"

Their shared laughter turned a few heads, but no one minded.

Sheila, the girl behind the tea bar whispered to the patron at the register, "Those two have been through enough for ten lifetimes, and deserve a bit of happiness."

The redheaded customer at the register scowled, "Their spouses aren't even cold in their graves yet and there _they_ sit, are acting like a pair of hormonal school children. It's disgusting."

Percy Weasley found himself face-down in his breakfast purchase, which leaked all over the countertop.

Karl Thornton, an employee from the Department of Magical Creatures apologized profusely, "Oh! Sorry, Junior Undersecretary, this pigasus just won't stay tethered."

The pink bodied, white winged piglet flew in excited circles at head level, forcing several ministry employees to duck.

Disgruntled, Percy Weasley stormed away, leaving his ruined breakfast behind.

Upton Stebbins cheerfully dropped three silver sickles in the open palm of the trained-pigasus handler.

"Always a pleasure doing business with you, Karl."

"Anytime Upton, you want to see the fire-breathing chicken next?"

The detective smiled and said, "Later, perhaps."

As soon as Harry stepped into his office he called for Stebbins.

"Sir?"

"I need to know everything there is to know about Cognivores, and the people who mind them."

"I'll get right on it, sir."

"Put a team together, if I'm right we'll need obliviators and legilimens – and everyone on the team will have to be a trained occlumens."

Upton raised an eyebrow at that.

"Don't worry about me, detective, I'm only using temporary shields from now on." He crossed his heart and raised his hand, "Scout's honor."

"You were never a Boy Scout, sir."

"True, but I promised Hermione."

"Fair enough, sir."

"I'd like that report before the close of day today, Upton."

Stebbins was a little shocked to hear the Lieutenant use his first name, "It'll be on your desk by lunch, sir."

"Good man."

The Detective was as good as his word. Harry took him to lunch.

As soon as they were seated in the ministry dining hall, Upton cast a privacy ward around the table and began his report.

"Nicholas Farkas has been the one constant throughout. He was a junior researcher when the first Cognivores came to the Department of Mysteries thirty years ago. He's the only one who's stayed with them the whole time."

"What else do we know about Mr. Farkas?

"Ninth-generation pureblood, never married."

"Married to his job?" Harry guessed.

"Looks like." Upton agreed, "He spends days at a time transferring data to and from the cogs, one of only three master legilimens in the ministry."

"What can you tell me about cognivores?"

"Well, at first blush they don't seem to need to eat, but that's not true, they don't need to very often, but they do eat." Upton explained.

"_What_ do they eat?"

"A fatty, protein enriched broth."

"What?"

"Chicken soup, sir."

"_How_ do they eat? I don't recall seeing a mouth when I visited them a few months back." Harry said, reminiscing.

"Those ribbon-like tendrils have micro tubules; the Cognivores dip them into the broth container to absorb the nutrients."

Harry could tell Stebbins was dying to say more.

"What else?"

Upton smiled, "They can't be tracked or traced by their magical signature."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise, "But all magic creatures have a magical signature."

"With this one exception, according to Lyn Huan, that's the DoM head's administrative assistant, the cogs do not show up on any of our standard scans. The boys and girls in the Department of Mysteries think the reason is because the cogs are artificially created creatures."

"You said standard scans won't work, what will?"

Upton smiled, "Most scans are passive, detecting the innate potential of the magical being, but an active scan, like a pulse, _should_ produce an echo."

"Are they as fragile as they appear?"

"They are susceptible to any of the offensive curses, bludgeoning, cutting, _reducto._ And something that Farkas didn't tell me."

"What's that?" Harry asked, impressed with Stebbin's initiative.

"High concentrations of soap or detergent, like dishwashing liquid or laundry detergent will reduce them to puddles of goo."

"Anything else?" Harry asked.

"Yeah, they have a sort of shared consciousness."

Harry nodded, "Mr. Farkas mentioned something like that when I spoke to him, apparently if one cognivore is destroyed, all the data in that one is saved, in part, in the remaining cogs."

The aurors finished lunch, and then headed back to Harry's office to brainstorm.

Meanwhile, Hermione was researching wizard marriage laws. No surprises here, she did not like what she'd learned.

She needed to speak to Harry.

)O(

"You want to serve papers on an employee of the Department of Mysteries?"

Harry nodded and passed the subpoena to Madame Proudfoot, the current head Auror of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

"Legally, you're on dangerously thin ice here, Lieutenant."

"I trust my gut on this one, ma'am. The autopsy on the non-magical victim in Kensington was conclusive; he'd been attacked and killed by a cognivore, several miles from the ministry building. Worse still, there have been similar attacks dating back thirteen years."

The DMLE chief signed off on the paperwork, warning, "You'd better be right about this one, Harry, or there'll be hell to pay."

"Yes ma'am."

When Harry returned to his office he was pleasantly surprised to see Hermione there.

"Lieutenant Potter, a word please?"

"Of course, Deputy Director." He smirked as he began to close the door, thinking, _in the middle of the day, in my office?_

"You can leave the door open, Lieutenant."

"Huh?"

"It's about my daughter, my _daughters_, Harry."

He left the office door open and directed Hermione to the more comfortable chair.

"I'm all ears, Hermione."

She seemed to study the surface of Harry's desk, took a deep breath, let half of it out and said, "According to wizarding law, if a _muggleborn_ widow re-marries, her children _must_ remain with the father's family."

"What?"

She looked up, eyes brimming with tears, "If we marry, then Rose and Emma are supposed to go to the Weasleys, _any_ of whom can claim her as blood kin."

"Would they really do that?" Harry asked, not wanting to believe they would.

"The Weasleys are an old, pureblood family. Bill or Charlie or Percy or George could claim my daughters as their own and, legally, I wouldn't have a leg to stand on."

"What about the head of the family? Couldn't Arthur intervene for us?"

"He could, Harry. The question really is, _would_ he, would he go against the wishes of his wife or any of his surviving sons?"

Harry looked thoughtful for a moment, then, in a move that endeared him even more to Hermione, he reached for a large, dusty tome titled, _Magical Family Law._

Flipping to the index he muttered while scanning the page, "I know I saw something about. . ."

His "eureka" smile shattered the gloom that had fallen over the couple.

Harry thumped the open page, "I thought I'd seen something, and its better than we could have hoped for, see?"

He shared the salient paragraphs with Hermione.

"Oh thank God!" then looked at Harry with adoring eyes, "The Weasleys will have to honor this, won't they?"

Harry smiled and said, "Leave that to me." Still smiling he got up and closed the door to his office, then set silencing charms around the room. A little celebration was in order.

"Tell me, Mrs. Granger-Weasley," he asked, his eyes smoldering with lust, "have you ever been _interrogated?"_

She sank deep into the comfortable chair as Harry knelt in front of her, one hand on each of her thighs, urging them to spread apart, revealing the treasure at their juncture.

"You have the right to remain silent," he said, pushing her skirt up as he hooked his fingers into the elastic waistband of her knickers, "but frankly, I'm hoping you'll want to make a little noise."

Hermione lifted her bum so that Harry could slide the undergarment off more easily.

"W-what are you going to do, _Lieutenant?"_ she gasped as he ran his hands over her bottom, urging her to slide forward so that her legs were splayed wide at the edge of the seat cushion. She propped herself up on her elbows so that she could see his face.

"Well, Madam Deputy Director, I was thinking of giving you a good tongue-lashing."

Harry smiled and extended his tongue, which he then touched with the tip of his wand, charming his lingual muscle so that it lengthened.

Still smiling he used his 'enhancement' to touch the tip of his nose, then the bridge of his nose. When he used it to groom his eyebrows Hermione sighed and fell back into the soft cushion, saying, "Do your worst, officer, I'll never talk!"

A little over an hour later, Hermione left his office feeling _much_ better.

)O(

Harry briefed the teams bound for Kensington that evening.

"Active scans on this one, boys and girls, passive scans won't work. If you see anything, and I mean _anything_ resembling red ribbons, _reducto_ first, then ask questions later. Teams of two, stay at least four paces apart, keep your partner in sight at all times.

Winston Hall raised his hand, "What if Cheryl has to use the loo?"

His partner, Cheryl Lighter gave him a poisonous glare.

"Then I recommend that both you and Auror Lighter take care of that before your shift starts, because if one of you gets taken out because the other has to have a piss then the surviving partner needn't come back."

Harry went on in a more somber vein, "This is deadly serious people, this thing has killed God only knows how many people in the past thirteen years, I don't want any of you to add yourselves to _that_ roster."

You could have heard a pin drop.

"Call me as soon as you detect this thing, remember, _it_ is expendable, none of you are. Be careful out there. Dismissed."

The teams nodded and portkeyed to Kensington.

Harry partnered with Upton and apparated to the common garden behind the Weasley's flat, then quickly disillusioned themselves in case anyone had heard the sounds of their arrival.

"Now we wait?" Upton asked.

"Now we wait." Harry said.

The first night no one had anything to report, neither did any of the teams on the second, third nor fourth night.

The fifth night Hall and Lighter were cursing the dark and the fog when Cheryl Lighter felt an ominous tickle on the back of her neck. She turned just in time to see the bulk of a thick bundle of red ribbon-like tendrils hovering a hand's span from her face.

She dropped, rolled and sent a flaming, cutting curse at the thickest part of the creature.

Cheryl heard what sounded like a shriek, then realized _she_ was the one screaming.

"_Diffindo!"_

Her partner, Winston, severed the single tendril that had stubbornly remained fixed to the back of her neck.

Cheryl's eyes rolled up in her head and she lay still.

)O(

Harry and Upton stood with Auror Hall at Cheryl Lighter's bed-side while a St. Mungo's healer shone a bright light into her patient's eyes.

"Auror Lighter, can you hear me?"

"T-too many voices." She managed to croak out.

"I didn't hear any voices, Lef' tenant." Winston Hall whispered.

Harry regarded the healer, "How much longer, Healer Jones?"

"I'd say give her another three hours, four would be better. After all, it's oh-two-hundred now, and she needs rest."

"Very well, Healer, we can come back later in the morning." Harry turned to the other veteran auror, "Hall, good on you for bringing down the cog."

"I didn't, sir, I mean, I helped, but it was Lighter who brought it down – she hit it with a flame curse before it got a really good hold on her. Bloody thing went up like a torch."

"Not surprising," Harry said, "It was made up of mostly fat."

"The smell," he said, shuddering, "like a grease fire, it was enough to put me off chips for a year."

"It didn't show up on any of your active scans?"

"No sir, we'd just finished a sweep of the high street when the fog rolled in, then all of a sudden, Cheryl is on the ground screaming with one of those bloody red ribbons stuck to her neck."

"Well the healer says she'll be fine, go home, I'll see you back here at oh seven-hundred, all right?"

"If it's all the same to you, Lef' tenant, I'll just kip here till Cheryl wakes up."

Harry nodded. He understood, if it were _his_ partner in the hospital he'd want to stay as well. Ron had been his partner, right up until Harry's promotion. After that they were still mates, but the working dynamic was gone.

"That's a good idea, Hall. Call me if she wakes up earlier and is ready to tell us what happened."

"Aye, sir."

)O(

In the Department of Mysteries one cognivore levitated from the tank then floated, undetected, out of the room, then out of the building.

)O(

Harry tried to be quiet and not wake the softly snoring Hermione but as soon as he'd settled into bed she wrapped herself around him.

"Hey, you." She murmured.

"Hey, yourself." He answered back, giving her a tender kiss. "Sorry to wake you, love."

"S' okay, I was married to an auror for eight years – I know what your schedule is like. How'd it go, the stakeout, I mean?"

"Good and not so good." Harry said.

"Did you get the bad guy?"

"Yes, but one of my aurors, Lighter, was hurt."

"Will he be okay?"

"He's a she, and she's in some kind of spell induced sleep."

"So, kiss her and wake her up."

"Nope, not me – I'm spoken for. Her partner might be contemplating it right about now."

"Was it what we thought?"

"Yeah, apparently a rogue cognivore. It's dead now."

Hermione kissed him again and settling back for a nice snuggle said, "My hero."

"Thank Lighter and Hall; they're the ones who took out the thing."

"Yes, but you had the _awesome_ responsibility of command."

He chuckled, "I'll leave that out of the commendation. I'm recommending them both for citations for courage under fire."

"You're so good at what you do, I'm proud to know you, Harry Potter."

"Go to sleep."

"Okay," she said, emphasizing her acquiescence with a prodigious yawn, "I've been wanting to go back to our old flat to pick up a few things, it's Saturday, so I can do that today and maybe take our kids to the play park in Kensington."

Harry may or may not have heard, as he was already snoring.

)O(

Later that Saturday morning, Harry stood by Auror Lighter's bedside, wishing he could be as visibly anxious as her partner, Auror Hall.

The healer rechecked her vitals and frowned, "She should be up and about by now, it's like something has attached itself to her sleep-center and told her not to wake up. See her eyes?"

Harry nodded.

Rapid eye movement, REM sleep, it means she's dreaming."

The healer double checked her vital signs, then shook her head and left.

Harry looked at the other auror in the room and asked, "Hall, um, Winston?"

Auror Hall was bleary eyed from lack of sleep; he'd stayed awake all night. "Yes sir?"

"I've got a hunch that whatever is keeping Lighter asleep would be, um, _open_ to an _invasive_ legilimency probe, are you okay with that?"

Winston's eyes grew wide, "Don't you need a magisterial order for that, Lef' tenant?"

"I don't think time is on our side here, Winston. A court order will take all morning, and, I've got a nagging feeling, we may not have that much time."

The veteran auror slumped in his chair and said, "If anyone asks, I was asleep the whole time, right, Lef' tenant?"

Harry smiled and nodded, then placed his hand on Auror Lighter's forehead and whispered "Legilimens."

)O(

Harry found himself in a room, teeming with people. There was a cacophony of voices, some trying desperately to be heard above all others. He looked around the room and saw a distinctive mop of red hair in the center of the throng.

Harry pushed his way through the crowded room, one man, an old derelict from the looks of him asked, "Have you seen my dog?"

"No. Sorry, mate."

Another man wandered, eyes unfocused, speaking in an eastern European dialect. Finally he found what he was looking for. Auror Lighter cowered in a corner as dozens of men and women badgered her for attention, each convinced that his or her need was greater than Cheryl's.

Harry placed two fingers in his mouth and the resulting "Fweeeeeeeeeet!" got everyone's attention.

Harry knelt down next to his DMLE officer, "Auror Lighter?"

The woman kept both hands over her ears and shook her head.

"Auror, this is your watch commander. Report!"

Cheryl removed her hands from her ears and looked at Harry, "Lef' tenant, did it get you too?"

"No, auror, it didn't. Tell me what happened."

"Well, sir, I was just finishing my active sweep of High Street when I felt a tickle at the back of my neck. I turned and saw this, this floating brain with red ribbons trailing, just like you said, and I hit it with a flame curse."

Harry smiled, "Auror Hall said you favor that one."

"Yeah, Winston says it's because my name is Lighter."

"That's original."

"Tell me about it."

With a gesture, Harry prompted her to continue.

"Well, sir, I started hearing a lot of screaming, and then I realized it was voices, too many voices, all trying to talk to me at the same time, and they kept getting louder and louder and crowding closer and closer."

Harry turned to see the faces in the crowd. All of them looked expectantly back. "Have you seen my dog?" a pitiful voice asked. There were murmurs of other questions then a familiar voice called, "Harry?"

Harry looked to his right and saw Ron Weasley, looking a little lost and very desperate.

"Harry? Harry, you've got to stop him, he's after the baby!"


	15. Chapter 15: The WAN of Cogs

Chapter 15 – The WAN of the Cogs

Harry looked at his murdered best mate and asked, "Ron?"

"Yeah, it's me, or what's left of me."

"Are you a ghost?"

"A memory."

A feeling like ice-water being poured through his soul made Harry gasp, _those were the exact words spoken by Riddle's Horcrux in my second year at Hogwarts._

"Or rather, a bunch of memories. When those brains first attacked me in the Department of Mysteries, I found myself in this room. Along with most of the people here, we've gotten some new ones lately." Gesturing to a small clutch of people.

The ragged old man asked, "Have you seen my dog?" for the hundredth time since Harry's arrival.

Ron continued, "It's taken me a while to get it sussed out, but when one of the brains attacks you it makes a copy of your memories, of everything you've ever seen or done or imagined. Then it shares those memories with all the other brains, 'cause from time to time I hear things out and about in London, when I _know_ I'm still in a tank in the Department of Mysteries."

"You said something about your daughter?"

"Ron's face screwed up in grief, "Bastard, he keeps distracting me!"

He seemed to shake himself, and then pulled Harry off to one of the darker reaches of the room.

"I've been in this _thing_ for years, and when it has strong feelings I get _impressions_, see?"

Harry nodded.

"Some time ago, I don't know how long, I started getting, well, not images, but flashes, y'know? Like muggle photy-graphs."

"And what did you see?" Harry prompted.

"See where?"

"Focus Ron, you get _flashes_."

"Yeah, I saw our flat in Kensington, only no one was at home."

"Was that very recently?"

"Hard to say, time's wonky here."

"Okay, then what?"

"Well, last night, or maybe it was last week, I dunno, we got a new arrival." He said, pointing to Auror Lighter.

"Yeah."

"Only she ain't the same as the rest of us, and neither are you. Why is that?"

Harry didn't want to say it was because neither he nor Cheryl Lighter were dead, "I think it's because we're just visiting, we don't live here."

Ron snapped his fingers, "Kemp!"

"Paul Kemp?" Harry asked.

"You know him?"

"Only just met him last week."

"Yeah, Kemp, he's a kind of a _computator_ guy, and he says," Ron looked confused, "Wait, lemme just find him."

Ron led Harry around the gaggle of people until he found a Londoner, sitting cross-legged on the ground, making notes with scraps of paper he'd pulled from his pocket.

"Mr. Kemp?" Harry asked.

The muggle screwed his face up in anguish, "Oh, no, not you too!"

"It's alright Paul, it didn't get me, I'm just here visiting a friend."

Kemp brightened up, "Oh, good then, maybe you can stop it."

"Stop what?" Harry asked.

"The upload, here, look at this." He said indicating the scraps of paper. Every one had a triangle drawn on it and the seemingly haphazard triangles were each connected by lines from one or two others.

"You see, these triangles represent individual entities, I call them domains, like network domains."

"Each domain is unique, if it weren't then there would be no need for a separate domain name for each, you understand?"

Harry frowned and asked, "Would each domain be an individual cog, like the one that took you and Ron?"

Both Ron and Paul looked confused, "Cog?" they asked in unison.

"Short for cognivore, a floating brain with long red tendrils, like red ribbons."

"The last thing I remember is going into my closet to get something out when a bunch of red ribbons grabbed me by my arms and, boom, I'm here."

"You were attacked by a cog." Harry said.

"Floating, disembodied brains? Sounds about right." Paul groused.

"You were saying, about the upload?" Harry asked.

"Yes, well, you see, I'm a networking engineer; I know a network when I see one. And the facts fit my definition of a WAN."

"A what?"

"A wide area network, with several domains."

Ron asked, "And what does that make us?"

Paul shrugged, "Data."

"I'm not part of the data, what would that make me?" Harry asked.

"Best guess, orphan data, or possibly a Trojan."

"Why is the LAN so interested in Hermione?" Harry asked.

Paul directed Harry and Ron to follow his tracing pencil, "See these media connections?"

Harry nodded while Ron shrugged and Paul continued, "All these data points coming together are like site-links waiting to transfer data, to upload to a new domain."

"But a cog can only transfer data to another cog."

"And what is a cog?" Paul asked.

"A disembodied brain, one that has no memories."

"Mrs. Granger-Weasley is pregnant, is she not?"

Harry felt a lead weight settle in his stomach as he nodded.

"A developing fetus's brain would be perfect for the upload."

And Harry understood. He ran back to Cheryl Lighter and knelt by her side.

"Auror Lighter, Cheryl, I need you to hang on here for a while longer, okay? We'll get you out of here soon, but for now, you're my only way in here."

"Okay, boss, but how are _you_ getting out? Merlin and Morganna know I've tried."

"I'll show you when I come back, okay?"

He turned to Ron and Paul, "I need you to look after Auror Lighter here, all right?"

Both men nodded then watched astonished as Harry closed his eyes and faded from view.

Harry opened his eyes and saw the bespectacled, disapproving eyes of Madam Proudfoot, his DMLE chief.

"Oh, shite!" he groused.

"Oh shite indeed, Potter, tell me, what do you do when one of your aurors disregards regulations? Such as the one requiring a Magistrate's order before performing active legilimens?"

"If we had the time, Madam Proudfoot, I'd ream him, or her, but good. Unfortunately we don't have the time; we have to lock down the Department of Mysteries, now!"

Madam Proudfoot had been in magical law enforcement long enough to know her star auror was on to something, and it would be best not to get in his way.

"Consider it done, Potter, but when this is over I want a detailed report." With that she turned on her heel, "It should make for interesting reading."

Harry flipped open his signaling mirror, "Stebbins!"

A calm voice answered from behind him, "Right here, boss."

"Get down to the DoM, keep Farkas in his office and get a count on the cogs down there, if I'm right, one's gone missing."

He turned to the other auror in the room who wasn't in the hospital bed, "Hall, go with Detective Stebbins, keep the remaining Cognivores from leaving, I don't care if you have to gaffe and net them. Oh, and don't let any of them touch you, understand? If they even look like they're about to float out of that tank, _fry_ them!"

Both aurors nodded curtly and left.

He strode to the hospital floo connection, threw in a handful of powder and nearly shouted, "Godric's Hollow!"

Striding through the green flames he called, "Hermione! Albie, Jimmie, Rosie!"

No one was home. On a Sunday afternoon. He tossed a pinch of powder into the fireplace, "Burrow!"

Percy Weasley's face appeared in the fireplace, "Oh good, it's you," the unctuous Weasley brother sniffed, "I've been meaning to talk to you-"

"Shut it, Perce, is Hermione there?"

Percy sniffed, "And if she is, what business would it be of yours?"

Harry had enough, he reached through the connection and grabbed Percy by his neat lapels and pulled him halfway through the fireplace floo connection. The 'stuck-up' Weasley gasped in pain and surprise, his glasses dangling off one ear.

"Listen to me you cocked up little shite! I don't know what your problem is and I don't care, but Hermione is in danger, my children, your nephews may be in danger, Hermione's children, may be in danger. Now where is she?"

Being forcibly pulled through a floo connection configured only for communication tends to put quite a bit of pressure on one's body, Percy was just barely able to squeak out, "Kensington."

Harry shoved him back through, closed the connection and threw in a fistful of powder shouting, "Granger-Weasley's!"

He threw himself through the connection, wand drawn and did a quick search of the house.

No one home.

"Where?" he said aloud, and then snapped his fingers, "The play-park!"

Harry threw off his robe leaving him in what would pass for a muggle suit on a Sunday afternoon, and hurried out the front door.

He turned right at the gate and nearly ran face-first into a tangle of ribbons.

Harry fell back and drew his wand on a balloon vendor and his very large bouquet of 'super-hero' Mylar balloons.

"Oy, mate, watch where yer goin!"

Winded, and a little embarrassed, Harry scrambled up, deftly re-holstering his wand as he did so.

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I wasn't watching, in a bit of a hurry."

"Tis a Sunday, mate, slow down. Take a walk inna park or summat."

Harry nodded, "Yes, good idea. The park is just up High Street, right?"

"That'sa ticket, mate, yeah, straight up the footpath till ye hear the sprogs squealing on the swings and teeter totters."

"Thanks." Harry said, running in the direction of the park.

He scanned all points of the compass, as well as the trees as he hurried to the park, when he arrived it was crawling with children of all ages, shapes and sizes.

He took a deep, calming breath and began an active expanding circle search for magical beings.

There! He got five return pulses from the scrum near the high-slide. Walking over he was thrilled to see Hermione, who accounted for two echoes, and their three children. He ran over to choruses of _Daddy, Daddy_ and wrapped his family in a tight hug.

"God I'm so happy to see you, all of you, I could just eat you up!"

"We've got the picnic table near the climbing oak, Dad!" Jimmy said proudly.

Harry looked around. There was no way a cog could harm his family as long as they were in the park. He was torn between the need to protect his loved ones and at the same time go to the Department of Mysteries.

If anything went wrong at the DoM and he wasn't there. . .

Hermione wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him warmly. She could tell he was distracted.

"What is it, Harry?"

"Let's have a look at that picnic lunch, shall we?" he suggested.

The two adults walked arm in arm to the table where Hermione had already spread a checkered cloth and a plastic cooler.

"An Igloo cooler, very muggle. I approve Mrs. Granger-Weasley."

"It's from Arthur. He's charmed it so that you can put a whole week's worth of food in it and it'll always stay cool."

Harry smiled wistfully, "We could've used it that time we spent living rough, remember?"

Hermione shook her head, "How could I ever forget? It was the only time in my life I had you all to myself. I'll never understand for the life of me why I didn't just throw you down and have my wicked way with you. All those cold, lonely nights."

Harry shrugged, "We were different people then, and you were pretty upset over Ron leaving us."

"I have to plead insanity, milord. God, it was like we were characters in a book written by someone who knew fuck-all how two hormonal teenagers would act if left alone, sharing a tent for months."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, "we should have been shagging like bunnies!"

Hermione kissed him, hard, and said, "Let's write our own story from now on, shall we?"

Harry surrendered himself entirely to her loving embrace.

"Now, tell me what's wrong, sweetheart."

Harry took a deep breath.

"The cog we took out wasn't a rogue; they're all connected, networked, according to Paul Kemp."

Hermione blinked, "But, Paul's dead."

Harry explained how the cogs would assimilate personalities of the people they attacked, and that he'd seen her neighbor, and Ron.

"Does this mean I - _we_ can see Ron again?" she choked.

Harry went on to describe what Paul had sussed out - that the cog wanted to 'upload' itself into her unborn child.

"No!" she squeaked, then sat on the bench, arms wrapped protectively around her belly.

"What do we do?" She asked, a single tear running down her cheek.

Harry shifted to his Auror Officer persona, "First, we make sure you and the children are safe, take them to Aunt Andie's, Teddy will be thrilled to see you all, especially Jimmy."

Hermione nodded. "We'll go straight away, should I go back to my old flat and floo there?"

"No," he said, reaching into his jacket pocket for his muggle wallet. Handing it to her he said, "Use muggle transportation, call it a 'field trip', so that the children can get used to traveling by non-magical means."

Harry knelt on the damp grass, taking Hermione's hands in his own. "The most important thing is for you, _all_ of you, to be safe. I can't do what I need to do if I can't be sure of that."

"There's something else, Harry, what is it?"

He looked down, "I know I promised, Hermione, but I'm going up against several cogs, and one or two wizards or witches, who are master legilimens."

Hermione held his face in both her hands, "You need to rebuild your occlumency armor."

It wasn't a question.

Harry nodded.

"Then let me help, it'll take less time."

The rest of the world faded to background noise and Harry began his construction, and Hermione helped. She checked for weaknesses, ways over, under, around or through his mental fortress, and reinforced wherever she saw a possible weakness.

After fifteen minutes of meditation, most of which was spent testing his newly formed mental armor, they both stood.

"Thank you, Hermione. Please gather the children."

Harry looked at the play-park with a new understanding. These children, running and playing and skinning their knees and enjoying their ice-cream were completely oblivious to the threats all around them.

Over on one bench there was a middle aged man, apparently reading a book, with his mobile phone in his lap, its tiny camera lens pointing at a group of little girls clamoring over the climbing-frame.

Harry wandlessly directed a bolt of energy that fried the mobile's circuit board.

As Harry took in the whole scene before him he said, "Balloons."

"Sorry, Harry, did you say _balloons?"_

Harry nodded, "All these children, in the park and not a single balloon."

Hermione shrugged, "Maybe the balloon vendors just haven't arrived yet, it _is_ just past noon."

He shook his head, "No, there was a balloon vendor, just. Outside. Your. Gate. . ."

"Hermione, go straight to Andromeda's, don't even bother with the cooler or the blanket, go now!"

Hermione nodded, kissed Harry on the cheek and ushered their children to the nearby bus stop.

Harry grabbed the wheeled cooler and walked purposefully back to the Granger-Weasley's Kensington flat.

Sure enough, there was the old balloon vendor, loitering by the gate, surrounded by children and their mums, all clamoring for Spider Man or Hulk or Iron Man.

The man was very slow, picking carefully, one would say meticulously from the bright ribbons. He would hand a child a balloon and accept whatever amount of cash the parent would offer.

Harry peered into the center of the mass of balloons and could just make out a few free-floating ribbons, red ribbons.


	16. Chapter 16: Back to the DoM

Chapter 16 – Back to the Department of Mysteries

Harry watched in fascination as the camouflaged cognivore, now turned puppeteer, manipulated the old muggle balloon vendor. If not for the armor of his occlumency he would have been in a state of near panic. There were no less than six children and at least as many ordinary, that is, non-magical mums and governesses surrounding the old man, all completely unaware of the horror hidden in the midst of the cheerful streamers.

A breeze against his back gave him an idea.

With a slight flick of the wrist holster, Harry surreptitiously extended his wand and, holding it close to his side, conjured a good sized chunk of smoldering sulfur. Kicking the pungent rock into the gutter he approached the group.

"Sorry folks, but there's been a gas leak reported in the area, and we've been asked to clear the streets."

The unmistakable "rotten egg" smells that most people associate with natural gas leaks wafted over them at just that moment.

Wide-eyed mothers and au-pairs quickly shepherded their charges up the footpath, the children pinched their noses and whined, _"Pee-yew!"_

Harry looked at the retreating children and their mothers and said, in a calm voice, "I can fry you like a chip before you can even think about attacking me."

"Whot?" the balloon vendor asked, wide eyed.

Harry reached out with a passive legilimens probe and verified the old man's thoughts and actions were not his own.

"Release the muggle, he's old and can't survive much longer under your control."

The face of the old man lost all expression and he fell to the ground, dead.

"That was unnecessary; the old man was no threat to you."

Red tendrils reached for Harry from the bundle of balloon ribbons.

With a desultory wave of his wand, Harry spun the balloons and ribbons and tendrils. The cognivore's body twisted into a tangle of festive colors and shiny helium-filled Mylar. A tendril gamely tried to extend beyond the tangle of toy balloons – Harry cut it off and then vaporized it on the spot.

He carefully levitated the old man's body along with the captive cog into the magically expanded Igloo cooler – he planned to investigate on behalf of the old man so that the body could be properly accounted and cared for.

As he stooped to lower the lid Harry did not see red tendrils extending down from the tree over his head.

"_Incendio!"_

Harry dove to one side the rolled to his feet, wand at the ready.

Hermione stood five paces away, her wand pointed at the branches above. A bright fat-fueled fire blazed in the tree. "I sent the kids via portkey to their Auntie's with a note. I had a feeling you might need a little backup."

"Thanks, Hermione, you were right, of course. I didn't see the other one."

She scanned the trees on both sides of the street, then asked, "Do you think there are more?

Harry flipped open his signaling mirror, "Detective Stebbins?"

"Sir?"

"How many cognivores are unaccounted for?"

"According to the records, three have gone missing since last Thursday. One was roasted during the stake-out, that leaves two gone missing, sir."

"I have one in custody, Detective Stebbins, and the other is burning as we speak."

"Sir, how soon can you get here?"

"Five minutes."

"Very good, sir, I'll have a report ready for you by the time you arrive."

"Good man, Stebbins. Is the area secure, can I bring a civilian?"

"All quiet here, sir."

Harry turned to Hermione, "We've just about got this all sorted out, would you like to come back to the Department of Mysteries with me?"

"I don't know, Harry. The last time we went there together, I got slashed by an angry Bulgarian."

"This time I don't plan to let you out of my sight, Hermione."

"In that case, Lieutenant, I accept."

They apparated to the lobby where Harry escorted Hermione through the public guard post. "Aurors don't have to check their wands." He explained

Hermione nodded, "I knew that."

They made an odd sight, the auror, in muggle attire, pulling a plastic cooler on wheels through the ministry halls.

They passed through two hastily constructed checkpoints, each manned by an auror Harry trusted.

"Any word from Detective Stebbins?"

"Only that they are waiting for you inside, oh, and be sure to wear your wellies."

Harry stopped.

"Hermione, please stay here with Auror Baldwin."

"What's wrong, Harry?"

"Perhaps nothing, but I want to go on ahead first to be sure."

Hermione couldn't see any duplicity in Harry, but then again, he was about as emotive as a golem, completely secured as he was within his occlumency armor.

"All right Lieutenant Potter, but if you're not out in ten minutes I'm going in after you."

"Fair enough."

Harry drew his wand and, pulling the bright blue and white cooler behind him, walked unhurriedly into the "Think Tank."

As he entered the chamber the walls of his occlumency were assaulted by multiple legillimency probes. His barriers held. With preternatural calm Harry cast a powerful locking charm on the only door into the room. Then he turned to face his attackers.

Inside he saw Upton Stebbins, Winston Hall and Nickolas Farkas standing near the brain tank.

Hovering above each of them was a levitating cognivore, red tendrils adhering to each of the wizard's heads and necks.

Even through his occlumency shields Harry muttered, "Oh shite!"

)O(

Hermione asked Auror Basic Elizabeth Baldwin if there had been any significant movement from the "think tank" that morning.

The AB shrugged, "Detective Stebbins told me just before you arrived to make sure no one else went into the brain room."

"How did he seem to you, Auror Baldwin?"

"A bit preoccupied, but with those spooky things in there, that's to be expected."

"Yeah, they are a piece of work. I wonder why the Ministry keeps them?"

All the auror could do by way of an answer was to shrug again.

Both witches heard the squelching sound of a locking charm on the door.

Hermione paled, "Contact the remaining aurors, we need every advanced occlumens and legilimens down here, now!"

Hermione ran to the exit mapping out the fastest route to Harry's office in her head as she went. Wizards and witches and other magicals moved out of her way, such was her determination.

When she entered his office she looked about for anything that might give her, and _her_ Harry, an edge against the threat looming below. She saw the chart taped to the wall that described all they had learned about cognivores thus far.

One fact made her smile.

It was a triumphant smile, one that did not bode well for the remaining cognivores.

)O(

Harry lowered his wand, then quietly lifted the cooler lid, releasing the cog back into its enclosure.

"Detective Stebbins, Upton."

The young auror turned to face his lef' tenant, with glazed, unfocused eyes.

"There are an awful lot of people in here, sir."

Harry nodded, "Anyone you recognize?"

"Cheryl is here, and Detective Sergeant Weasley, sir. Winston is here with Cheryl."

"How are you doing, Upton?"

"My occlumency barriers are firmly in place, sir, as are Winston's. Cheryl is beginning to weaken, she's been here too long I think."

"Tell her to hold on just a bit longer, then I'll send her and Winston off on a nice long, tropical holiday."

Winston Hall spoke for the first time, "She says it's a deal, if you throw in a promotion."

Harry smiled in spite of his suppressed emotions.

"Done."

The first tendril reached tentatively toward Harry.

He didn't flinch.

He'd been expecting it.

As the red ribbon touched his forehead he allowed himself another small smile, the same one he used when he'd made a game winning move in chess.

Harry blinked at the bright light.

"Do not struggle, Harry Potter, your body belongs to me now. If you do not cooperate, I will cause your heart to stop."

Harry sighed, "Why do the bad guys always assume we are as stupid as they?"

The light coalesced into the shape of a swarthy, middle-aged man with long black hair and a beard, both streaked with grey.

"Sasha Karkaroff, I presume?"

The Bulgarian strutted around the room, "Do you like my domain? I built it from nothing, less than nothing."

"Where did the stones come from?"

"Quarried from the very bones of my prey, by the sweat of my brow, and put into place by my own hands, and later, by the hands of those who are joined to me."

"I remember you, Harry Potter; I remember everything Weasley ever knew about you."

"You mean what he thinks he knows about me, don't you."

Karkaroff shrugged, "We all have our weltanschauung, our own, somewhat biased view of the world."

"Why did you kill my wife?"

"She was attacking me, her own brother. I think it was she who killed Weasley."

Harry shook his head, "No, she didn't kill Ron, she was defending her friend, but she didn't use deadly force."

"No matter. I made use of the mudblood, she is only good for relieving a man's needs and making babies – and she will have a strong, healthy baby boy for me."

"Then you're in for a disappointment, Karkaroff. Hermione's baby is a girl."

Karkaroff snarled, "No, it was to be a _boy!_ Stupid _pizdae_ couldn't even get that right!"

"So you won't want to 'upload' into a baby girl."

It wasn't a question.

"Never! I will be reborn a _man_, with all my memories intact."

"Why Hermione?"

"Ever since that day, years ago, when Weasley summoned me from my tank, my mind has been filled with thoughts of her. Her long, brown hair, those impossible chocolate eyes, her soft breasts and, after a while, the welcoming depths of her."

"When you attacked Ron, all those years ago, you left a bit of yourself inside him, didn't you?"

"First I listened to him, you call it 'passive legilimency', then I joined with him. At first, I was only going to feed on him, but he was so easy to control that I left enough of myself in him to keep us, what is that word Kemp uses, ah yes, linked."

"Shards from your tendrils," Harry said, prompting a surprised nod from Karkaroff, "but none of your other victims had bits of you in their skin."

"The tendrils are like a shark's skin, smooth if you stroke it one way, but rough and prickly the other. I would not leave so much of myself in all those that I fed on."

"So the tendrils can be removed safely if you just follow the grain. I'm guessing young Ron Weasley panicked and tried to rip them off his arms. That would have pushed the shards even deeper into his arms."

"Yes," the Bulgarian agreed, "it became our link with one another. Every time he was with his 'Hermy', I was there too. But I was always in the background, never so much in control, except…"

"Except when he drank." Harry finished for him.

"Yes, when he drank, even a little, then I could come to the front of his mind, I could live again. And I _did_ live! I sang, I danced, I drank and I fucked!"

"Leaving Ron with the hangovers and the remorse, you're quite a piece of work, aren't you Karkaroff?"

"More than you will ever know, Potter. The _Mage Politzi_ thought they had me when they cored me and made me into one of my own creations, "poetic justice" they called it.

"But they didn't realize that I, who created the first cognivore, knew how to keep my mind from being wiped, hidden behind several layers of empty grey matter, and concealed deep within the cerebral cortex."

"So you are the only cog with its original memories and intellect, its _soul_, if you will, intact."

"You are very perceptive. Perhaps I will let you live, and _you_ can give me the baby I need."

"I don't think so, Sasha."

"You cannot defeat me in my own realm. I created this world, and in it I am God."

"Perhaps, but I can bring your world crashing down around your metaphorical ears."

Karkaroff laughed, "All by yourself?"

Harry shook his head, "Upton, Winston, Cheryl."

The three DMLE officers appeared, flanking their lef' tenant.

"Oh, well, since there are four of you, I will have to surrender. Oh, wait," the Bulgarian said, snapping his fingers, "I am not alone either."

Ron and Paul stepped out of the darkness, and then the scores of others Karkaroff had assimilated over the years began to appear.

Harry allowed himself a smile.

"Ron, Paul, all you others, listen to me! Karkaroff has enslaved you, and he controls you."

Ron held out his hands, palms outward as if to say, "So, what can we do?"

"Listen you lot, there are dozens of you, _but only one Karkaroff._ And there is no way this _one_ man," Harry said, pointing at the bearded wizard, "can control all of you at once."

Harry pointed at Paul Kemp, "You are a computer network engineer, what can bring down a network?"

Paul's shade said, "A denial of service attack, where the file server is bombarded with demands for access, queries."

A small voice called out piteously, "Have you seen my dog?"

"Was that a query?" Harry asked.

Paul smiled, "Sounded like one to me."

Harry shouted, "Everyone, start asking questions, doesn't matter what the questions are, just keep asking, don't stop!"

"Harry! Take care of my family!"

"I will, mate, count on it!"

Then the random memories of Ron Weasley smiled grimly and began bombarding Karkaroff with questions pertaining to the Junior Quidditch leagues.

The noise grew louder until Harry had to draw the other aurors close in order to be heard over the cacophony.

"Time to go, ready Cheryl?"

"More than ready, sir!"

Harry pushed outward with his shields until he began to see the real world around him again, Winston and Upton blinked as if coming awake after a prolonged, enforced kip.

In St. Mungo's Cheryl Lighter sprang from her bed, then sat down. She'd been lying in that bed for several days and didn't need to be 'springing' anywhere. She carefully recovered her clothing and walked, gingerly, to the nearest floo. She needed to be in the DoM, _now!_

Harry showed the junior aurors how to remove the tendrils, "Push down and then away," he said, "if you try ripping them off they will leave bits of themselves behind and those can cause problems later on.

The aurors helped each other safely remove the offending appendages, then turned their attention to Farkas.

"He's too much in tune with the cogs, sir; all the queries are distracting him."

"I don't know how much Farkas is involved with Karkaroff's schemes, but I want him interrogated under veritaserum. In the meantime, let's put these remaining cognivores back in the tank."

The three aurors levitated the errant 'brains' back into the tank.

"Auror Hall, take Mr. Farkas into custody, please."

As Harry undid the locking charm on the only entrance door he was surprised to see a platoon of aurors waiting on the other side, all prepared to do battle with God only knows what.

At their head was one very determined Hermione Granger-Weasley, wand drawn, her expression grim.

"All right, Harry?" she asked, raising one eyebrow.

"Nevah bettah!" he responded cheekily.

"Its okay, officers, you can stand down. He's Harry.

"Are all the cognivores accounted for?"

He nodded.

"Good." She said, and then walked purposely into the chamber, pulling a small cart.

Once inside, she walked straight to the brain-filled tank and winced as a passive, yet powerful legilimens probe tried to divine her thoughts.

Hermione levitated the five deka-liter container until it hovered above the tank, then let it drop.

The water became agitated, and then everyone in the room felt the psychic screams of the dozen remaining cognivores as they threw themselves against the sides of the tank or tried to swim up and out, finding they couldn't pass through the magical barrier that Hermione had erected there. The squirming, writhing disembodied brains began to dissolve - slowly at first, then more rapidly until all that remained of the creatures were flat tendrils which littered the floor of the tank.

Hermione turned to Harry and said, by way of explanation, "Someone decided it was time to clean the cognivores habitat, of course, she didn't realize that the cleaning solution would completely dissolve the poor creatures in the tank."

Harry nodded, "Pity, that."

Hermione agreed, "Yes, a pity,"

Then she added, "Nobody, and I mean nobody threatens _our_ family – and lives."

Harry nodded in agreement. There would be hell to pay over the loss of the 'potential resources' the cogniivores represented. And there was no way he was going to admit _who_ had dropped the industrial strength 'de-greasing' solvent into the tank. The DMLE could have his badge for all he cared.

All he cared about in the world were Hermione, the growing life within her and their three children.

Harry bent down to kiss Hermione and asked, "Would you pick up the kids at Auntie Andie's?"

Hermione wrapped her arms around his middle and said, "Well, I was thinking, since the kids are already at their Auntie's, maybe we could…"

Harry said, "Normally I would jump at the chance, but I have to file the preliminary reports and then interrogate Farkas. It will be several hours before I can leave."

Upton Stebbins standing close to his lef' tenant, as was his habit, rolled his eyes.

"Lef' tenant Potter, do you think your training has been so inadequate that your _partner_ can't handle the prelims and interrogation?"

"Well, no…"

Upton soldiered on, "And as Mrs. Granger-Weasley's closest family available, don't you think it is incumbent upon you to _comfort_ her after this traumatic experience?"

"It's true, Harry," Hermione said, theatrically, "I feel the need for some _comforting_ right about now."

She stood on her toes and kissed him, and as she did so she placed her palms on each of his temples.

"_Legilimens!"_

_)O(_

They stood in Harry's mindscape staring at the imposing fortress that was the mental representation of his occlumency shields.

"This is going to take a while, Hermione." He said.

She smiled and tapped an odd, pie-shaped stone, "Not as long as you think, mister!"

The stone disappeared and the fortress shook, then shifted, then fell in on itself like a house of cards.

When the dust and debris settled a gob-smacked Harry stared first at the rubble that had been his impenetrable shields and then at his best friend and lover.

"A keystone?" he asked, amazed.

She nodded, "I wanted a way to bring your occlumency down, just in case."

"That's why you offered to help me build them in the first place!"

Another smug nod of the head.

)O(

And the kiss broke.

To the applause and cheers of four dozen aurors.

Cheryl Lighter stood there fanning herself with a sheaf of parchment, "That was one for the record books, sir. Now, if Winston, I mean Auror Hall and I can be dismissed? I think we're in need of some, ah, _comfort_ as well."

"Detective Stebbins, you are the on-site commander for this investigation, I expect a full report on my desk first thing tomorrow morning."

A tug on his sleeve directed Harry's attention to the witch at his elbow; he looked down and saw Hermione wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Um, make that tomorrow afternoon – _late_ tomorrow afternoon."

"Aye sir!"


	17. Chapter 17: Loose Ends

Chapter 17 – Loose Ends

Harry sat up in bed and looked around, clothing, sheets, shoes and at least one lamp littered the floor. All of the pictures on the wall behind the bed were slightly askew. He charmed his morning stubble away and freshened his breath before giving Hermione a light peck on the lips.

"Sweetheart?" he asked

"Hmmmm?"

"What was that spell you used last night?"

"Oh, just a little charm to protect little Emma Ginevra in case we wanted to get a little, ah, vigorous last night."

"Memo to me, move the bed away from the wall. This place looks like an earthquake hit it."

Hermione stretched her body alongside Harry's. "We _did_ move the bed away from the wall, but you, you randy bastard, pounded it back!"

He smiled at the memory, "I don't recall hearing any complaints at the time."

"Hmmmm, and you won't either. Do we need to be up or do we have time for another?"

"Gods, woman, I am _not_ a machine!"

"Could have fooled me, _Mister Locomotive."_

"Woo-woo!"

Laughing, they fell comfortably into each other's arms.

They kissed deeply, soulfully, completely. Hermione felt Harry's arousal and smiled.

"_Woo-woo!"_

Which made them laugh even more.

After an hour of serious 'laughing', two _very_ sated mages sighed into each other's arms.

"Time to go to work." Harry groused.

"Do you want me to come with you?"

"No, sweetheart, it's okay. I'll give you a full report when I come home tonight."

"You'd better. I'd best be getting back to my own office before Elaine, my office manager, completely takes over."

They kissed and dressed and floo-called Andromeda Tonks. Ten-year-old Teddy answered, "Uncle Harry! Auntie Hermione! Are you coming over? Grandmum's making lotsa lunch!"

Harry looked at Hermione who shrugged, "Why not."

"We'll be right through, squirt!"

The unofficial couple stepped through the fireplace to a chorus of "Daddy, Mummy!" From the three Granger-Weasley-Potters.

"You gotta see what Teddy can do! Show em' Teddy, _show_ em'!"

Teddy smiled as all his hair seemed to disappear into his head leaving him bald except for a single, long ponytail that erupted from his crown.

Andromeda groaned, "It's my fault, I said something about the Krishnas and their unique hair styles and Teddy thought it sounded 'wicked'."

"I'm sure we could find some orange robes around here somewhere." Harry said, with a grin.

"Uh! No orange, never again orange!" Hermione groused.

"Lunch everyone!" Andromeda called.

Sandwiches, milk and fruit juices were laid out on a sideboard. Everyone filled their plates and brought them to the dining table.

Jimmy sat by Teddy, whom he idolized, and Rosie was in her 'limpet' mode with Harry.

"Sweetheart, you can't eat if you don't let go of Daddy." Hermione chided.

Rose, firmly ensconced in Harry's lap, leaned forward and took a bite out of his sandwich as he held it still for her, then smiled triumphantly at her mother.

The meal and the company were excellent. Hermione couldn't remember having eaten as much recently.

"Thank you for looking after our brood, Andie."

"Anytime, Harry. You know that. Teddy? Be a dear and show your cousins the new tadpoles, won't you?"

Children and water, what a combination. Four screaming sprogs ran to out the back door.

Andromeda looked troubled, "Harry, Hermione. I got a summons from the Department of Magical Family Services today; apparently I have to testify in a custody hearing."

"Anyone we know?" Hermione asked.

Andromeda nodded, "Yes, dear. You."

She handed Harry the document.

_Custody Hearing_

_To determine whether the interests of Rose Lydia Weasley and Baby Weasley, yet to be named, would be best served in the custody of their biological mother, a first generation witch._

_Brought before the Wizengamot on this day by Percival Ignatius Weasley, tenth-generation pureblood, petitioner._

_Court date to be determined._

_R.F. Magisterial Court Ministry of Magic._

Harry and Hermione shared a look, and an understanding.

"Thank you, Andie," Hermione said, reassuringly, "I expected this. I know my summons will come on the day of the hearing, and in such a way that I will likely be late for the proceedings. It's a common practice, one designed to keep 'the mudblood' off balance."

"Daddy, Jimmy pushed me!"

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

Harry sighed, "Ten, nine, eight, seven, six…"

Both boys instantly stopped shouting and joined their father as he counted down.

"…Five, four, three, two, one."

"Now, Albus, what happened?"

"I was bent over, y'know, leaning into the frog pond and Jimmy tickled me an I fell over inna water!"

"Jimmy, what happened?"

"I'm talkin' to Teddy, and Albie falls into the pond and I laughed is all, I promise."

All heads turned to Rose, who looked red faced, about to burst, either in laughter or tears.

She nervously extended her finger and said, "Tickle, tickle, tickle!"

Teddy jerked, holding his side, laughing uncontrollably.

Albus immediately forgot his mad and said, "You can do that? Cool!"

When Rose understood she wasn't in trouble she laughed along with the boys and proudly showed off her newfound talent.

Hermione tried hard not to laugh as she performed the drying charm on Albie's wet clothing and shoes.

"Accidental magic?" Andromeda asked, amazed.

Harry shook his head, "No, controlled, wandless magic. A little something her _muggle-born_ mother taught her."

The three adults exchanged farewell hugs as Harry and Hermione went to their respective offices.

Harry entered the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and Upton was there, as if by magic, pad in hand.

"What did Farkas tell us?"

"I'm not sure Nicholas Farkas is even in there, sir."

Harry looked sideways at the Detective, "Explain."

"Multiple Personality Disorder, sir. Apparently, he's been plugged into the brains for so long that he's become a flesh and blood cog, only without the tentacle, ribbony, _things."_

"Any dominant personalities?" Harry asked.

Upton shook his head, "No, apparently they all take turns."

They turned the corner to the interview rooms and Harry followed Upton into one of the more comfortable sitting areas.

"Mr. Farkas?" Harry asked.

"No, Tucker, me mates call me tuck, have you seen my dog?"

"Can you describe him?"

"_She's_ a Corgi; all body an no legs to speak of, answers to the name 'Chippie'."

"Don't you like her?"

"She's me best mate, she loves the chips though. We dives the skips an Chippie kin tell when there's chips innem."

Upton assured the old man, "We'll be on the lookout for Chippie, Tuck, don't you worry."

"Who's Tuck? Please, can you tell my husband that I'm here? My name is Wendy, Wendy Moore. I've been waiting ever so long…"

)O(

Somewhere, hidden deep within the _host_ – the part of Nicholas Farkas's brain that had been his consciousness - Sasha Karkaroff seethed.

_There has to be a way, I know I can beat back all these others, 'eba! Most of these schmatka don't have any magic! My will is stronger - I will be the one in control!_

"Hello, Sasha."

Karkaroff sneered at the insignificant, weak wizard he'd possessed for more than a dozen years.

"Weasley, why aren't you in the queue? Don't you want _our_ precious _Hermy_ to know you're in here?"

Ron shook his head, "No, that wouldn't serve any purpose, I'm dead. Let the dead stay dead."

"So what will you do for the rest of our host's life?"

Ron smiled a most unpleasant smile. "You tortured me for years, worse; you made Hermione's life a living hell."

The Bulgarian shrugged, as if to say, "So?"

Ron pulled his wand from within his auror's robes, "Did you know a memory can cause pain? It can you know, but something just as important, a memory can _feel_ pain."

Karkaroff's eyes grew wide as saucers, "No!"

"Payback time, Sasha, _crucio!"_

Ron kept Karkaroff under the pain curse until the Bulgarian puppet-master was reduced to a state of catatonia, where he would remain for the rest of the host's life.

Ron left the glassy-eyed, drooling husk curled in a fetal ball on the cold stone floor. He walked until he found a quiet corner, fashioned a chessboard and offered the rest of the multiple personalities within their host a pleasant way to pass the time.

)O(

The interview went on for nearly an hour, with no one personality coming to the fore.

As the two aurors left the interview room Harry said, "St. Mungo's, long term care I guess."

Upton nodded, then frowned. "Tucker's body was found in a skip in Chelsea, I have a friend, a constable who works near there."

Harry grinned, "Upton, is there a department anywhere in Britain that you don't have an 'in' with?"

"Well, lets see, there's the Prime Minister's Office, no, I know his OM. Wait, there's… No, I suppose not, sir."

Harry had a thought, "What about the Department of Magical Family Services?"

"I know two of the legal aids in that office, why?"

"One of the Weasley's is trying to take custody of Hermione's daughters."

"I'll get right on it, sir."

"No, Upton, this is personal, I can't authorize the use of department resources for personal reasons."

Detective Stebbins grinned and said, "I think I'll take lunch with two of my mates from DoMFS, I'll be off the clock. That okay with you, sir?"

Harry chuckled and shook his head, "I'm not gonna win this one, am I?"

"No sir, don't even try."

"Very well, find out what kind of case Percy Weasley is preparing against Hermione, and let us know when she's going to be summoned to testify, alright?"

With a nod Upton was gone.

Harry went to his desk and picked up the telephone receiver, the DMLE had recently been switch-boarded with the city telephone service. In just a few short weeks everyone in the Minstry had learned not to say "Fellytones."

"Switchboard, London Animal Care Centre, please."

)O(

Harry hated attending Geezergamot sessions, but as head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black, he was compelled to attend one meeting per quarter.

'Lord Black', a title bequeathed him by his godfather, and one that Harry would be happy to pass on to his godson, as Teddy Lupin was Orion Black's great-grandson. Harry was literally counting the days until Teddy attained his majority, in seven years.

However, for this meeting, the current Lord Black actually had something to say.

"Do the Lords of the Ancient and Noble Houses have any new business?"

Every head snapped to Harry as he, for the first time ever, stood in his box.

The chief Mugwump managed to stutter out, "The Wizengamot recognizes Lord Black."

"May it please the Geez, um, Wizengamot, I have an honorarium."

"You have the floor Lord Black."

"For the record, madam recorder?"

The recorder nodded her assent.

"Many of you here are familiar with the threat posed by the Cognivores kept, until recently, by the Department of Mysteries. The Cognivores were the end products of horrific experiments performed by a convicted war criminal at the behest of the Dark Lord Gellert Grindelwald. The cogs themselves posed a grave threat to the safety and security of the wizarding world at large. Indeed, if the mind behind the cogs had succeeded, we could very well have seen the next dark lord rising up in our very midsts.

"The threat was quelled by a handful of Aurors from the DMLE, but none of them would have ever survived the ordeal if it hadn't been for a clever, intuitive British citizen, Paul Kemp."

"Paul Kemp was a computer networking engineer, and it was his knowledge of networks that made it possible for us to fight and defeat the threat of the Cognivores."

"For his cool application of skills no wizard yet possesses, I nominate Paul Kemp for the Order of Merlin, posthumously."

The chief Mugwump asked, "Then, Mister Kemp is no longer with us?"

"No, milord, he died fighting the Cognivores."

"Lord Black, it is unprecedented to give a non-magical citizen of Britain the highest honor this august body can award."

"Respectfully, milord, we're not _giving_ Paul anything, he's earned his Order of Merlin."

The inevitable debate and vote ensued, in the end, Paul would not receive Magical Britain's highest honor, but would have his name incised and gilded on the honor wall along with the names of all the magical citizens who had given their lives in defense of the wizarding world – Paul would be the first ever muggle so honored.

Harry smiled; he'd known if he had simply asked for Paul's name to be added to the Wall of Remembrance, his request would have been summarily dismissed, but, by asking for the _highest_ honor the Geezergamot would eventually agree to a lesser one.

God and Goddess he hated politics.

His signaling mirror buzzed within his robes, rather than answer the device in the Wizengamot chambers Harry left his box heading for the nearest exit as soon as the Grand Mugwump gaveled the regular session to conclude, and the judiciary session to commence.

He was almost to the door when he heard the head of the judiciary.

"Has the mother been notified?" Lewis Hunter, the Chief Magistrate of the Wizengamot asked the Petitioner's table.

Harry turned to see Percy Weasley, grinning like a loon, sitting next to Lakshmi Hitesh, the Deputy Director of the Department of Magical Family Services.

Harry groaned inwardly and tapped the protean coin linked to Hermione's, their pre-arraigned signal that the farce they'd been expecting was about to begin.

"Apparently, milord, she doesn't respect this court or your authority."

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think, Perce?"

Every head turned to see Auror Lieutenant Harry James Potter, in full dress robes, the Order of Merlin, First Class gleaming from its place of prominence on his sash.

Hermione Jane Granger-Weasley strode in, her Ministry robes billowing behind her, also emblazoned with the Order of Merlin.

"Milord, I must ask why my summons was not delivered until _after_ this session of the Wizengamot was convened. Is this a common practice for the Wizengamot, or has the Department of Magical Family Services simply chosen to ignore procedure?"

Percy stood, "May it please the court, milord, I do apologize to this august body for the unfortunate timing of the Department's summons."

Harry smiled at Percy, "I notice you did not apologize to your sister-in-law."

Percy sat down, frowning.

"Then as the head of the Ancient and Noble House of Black I move for an official reprimand to be placed in the files of Percival Weasley and Deputy…"

Lakshmi Hitesh jumped to her feet, "On behalf of the Department of Magical Family Services, I offer Mrs. Weasley our most humble and official apologies for our lack of foresight and preparation, of course the summons _should_ have been delivered more than twenty-four hours ago."

Deputy Director Hitesh glared at Weasley for what was surely part of his campaign to discredit a decorated war hero.

"I am Hermione Granger-Weasley, Miss Hitesh, to truncate my name shows a lack of respect for my family and heritage, but I will let it pass _this time."_

The magistrate sighed and directed his attention to the petitioner's table, "Present your argument, Junior Undersecretary Weasley."

Percy stood so quickly the table moved.

"Milord, it is our contention that Mrs. _Granger_-Weasley is unfit for the role of chief caregiver, responsible for nurturing two full-blood magical children. Further this witch has proven herself to be of questionable moral character."

Magistrate Hunter furrowed his brows and said, "These are serious accusations, Mr. Junior Undersecretary. Are you prepared to provide this magisterial body with proof of your accusations?"

Percy looked smug, "I am, milord."

"Milord," Harry said, in his best command voice, "in accordance with the laws set down in 1066, by the common calendar, I propose this matter be settled on the field of honor."

"Trial by combat?" the Chief Magistrate balked, "That hasn't been done for over four-hundred years."

"Nevertheless, the law is still in full force, is it not, milord?"

"And would you be Mrs. Granger-Weasley's champion?"

"I would if she would allow it, milord, but she insists, as the accused, she must defend herself."

"That's preposterous, Potter, I can't fight a pregnant woman!"

Chief Magistrate Hunter struck his gavel twice, "You will direct all comments to this bench, Junior Undersecretary Weasley, or I will find you in contempt."

Percy paled and bowed his head, "My apologies, milord, but I _was_ provoked."

"If you are so easily provoked, Mr. Weasley, then I suggest you let your legal council speak for you."

Hermione stood, her pregnancy obvious for everyone in the court to see, "Milord, Lieutenant Potter was illustrating that the arcane laws that allow for trial by combat are, in fact, the same laws that Percy Weasley is using to contest custody of my children. _My_ children, milord, one I've given birth to, and another who will be with us soon."

"Not _too_ soon, I hope, Mrs. Granger-Weasley."

Hermione shrugged, "In my experience, babies come when _they_ are ready, milord."

"Then let us move along with alacrity."

Percy raised his voice, "Milord, I call Amber Coulter to the witness box!"

Harry and Hermione were both surprised to see the tanned blonde concierge from the Hawaiian Village Hilton take the stand.

"Miss Coulter, did you or did you not check Mr. Potter and Mrs. Granger-Weasley into your hotel approximately four months ago?"

"Yes…"

"Thank you, Miss Coulter, and under what name did they register?"

"Potter…"

"And what was the length of their co-habitation?"

"Objection!" Harry yelled.

"Objection!" Hermione yelled simultaneously.

"I object! And I'm the witness here!" Amber said, angrily.

"Your honor, I've been magically summoned from my home in Honolulu - that's a _ten hour_ time difference. My body is telling me that it's two in the morning. Now I'm being brow-beaten by a pompous ass who is trying to put words into my mouth. May I give my statement and then go home? I'm very tired, your honor."

"On behalf of my countryman, I apologize, Miss Coulter. Of course you may offer a statement, as a matter of fact, the Junior Undersecretary knows that the summons was unnecessary and should know that any and all expenses incurred by you on this trip are _his_ financial responsibility. All you were _required_ to do was to provide a written statement."

"Thank you, your honor."

"Just for your information, Miss Coulter, I'm a lord."

"Sir?"

"No, that would be a knight; I'm a lord, in this setting I'm addressed as Lord Hunter, or simply, milord."

"I'm very tired my lord, may I give my statement?"

"Of course."

"I see thousands of guests, mundane as well as magical, every year. So it's ludicrous for anyone to expect me to remember two specific guests from four months ago."

Percy paled.

"But I remember this couple. How could I not. You get pretty good at reading people in my business. This was a young couple battling grief; one or both of them had lost someone, a spouse, a parent or a child. I don't know, I didn't ask. But I know this, they came to Oahu to heal and before they left, I think the process had started. Yes, I helped them check in, to _two separate rooms._ To say they were cohabitating is insulting and demeaning. I'm not familiar with your laws, but in the States that would be grounds for a libel suit."

"Do you have any questions for the witness, Mrs. Granger-Weasley?"

"No, milord."

"You are excused, Miss Coulter, with this magistrates thanks. Have a nice meal before you leave, send the bill to Junior Undersecretary Weasley. If you have the steak at the Ritz, I would suggest the Penfold's Grange Ninety-seven."

"Thank you, your hon – I mean, my lord. I don't eat meat, but I do like a nice glass of Shiraz, they have Penfold's Grange at the Ritz, did you say? I'll be sure to order a bottle."

The magistrate smiled, "See that you do, and if you can wait half an hour I'll be happy to share a glass with you."

"It'll be my treat, my lord."

"No, it will be Mr. _Weasley's_ treat."

Both wine aficionados smiled, a Penfold's Grange Ninty-seven runs about two hundred British Pounds per bottle.

"Mr. Weasley, if the rest of your evidence is as shaky as this, then I suggest you drop this farce immediately. It's already cost you more than you realize, and I don't mean galleons. Your political capital, hard earned in the war against Tom Riddle is nearly spent."

Lakshmi Hitesh sank low in her seat, desperately trying to _not_ be seen with Percy Weasley.

"M-my-milord, I have statements, affidavits, witnesses who have seen _her_ in public displays of affection with _him! _And where are her widow's weeds? She's not even wearing black! And she has a job; she's working when she should be at home taking care of the children!"

"STOP RIGHT THERE PERCIVAL!"

The entire Wizengamot turned to see a beet faced Arthur Weasley.

Magistrate Hunter was going to need that drink, "Senior Undersecretary Weasley, approach the bench."

Arthur Weasley strode to the bench.

"Milord, as Percival's head of house I require, no, I _demand_ that he cease and desist."

"Father, no!"

"You are in contempt Mr. Junior Undersecretary."

At those words Percy was silenced, unable to utter a sound – if he'd so much as tried to clap his hands to get someone's attention it would have made no noise.

"Go on Arthur."

"Milord, Lef' tenant Potter has declared his intention to marry my daughter in law, and adopt my grandchildren – in due consideration for the three outstanding life debts the Weasley family owes him. He's allowing us the courtesy of waiting out the normal period of mourning, one year and one day. This morning, speaking as her magical head of house I have accepted."

"Mrs. Granger-Weasley, Mister Potter, please approach the bench."

They did so and Magistrate Hunter said, "I've heard enough, more than enough. Weasley Minor, I don't know what you were trying to accomplish here but all you've done is embarrass yourself and your family. You've effectively, publicly, pissed away any future you might have had in the political arena. If I were you, I'd get out of politics and find something you're good at."

Percy, his face as red as his hair, nodded.

"Mr. Potter, Mrs. Granger-Weasley, I understand congratulations are in order. You know, in times of war, the traditional mourning period is suspended."

"We know that, milord," Hermione said, "but we're not currently _at_ war."

"Come, come, surely there's a war going on _somewhere."_

Harry and Hermione looked at Arthur, who shrugged, "Milord, I have no objection."

Harry said, "Wait, milord, I want this, more than you can possibly know. However, I also want us to have a proper wedding, you know, flowers, music, family and friends all round."

"Ahem! May I approach the bench your lord, my lord, oh lord, you know what I mean."

Magistrate Hunter chuckled, and gestured Amber Coulter forward.

"It just so happens, my lord, that I am also a wedding planner, and I know for a fact that these two rate a first class Hawaiian wedding. They made quite an impression when they visited Oahu."

The magistrate smiled, "How about this, I'll go ahead and pronounce you man and wife, today, and then I'll leave you to the tender mercies of Miss Coulter who will give you a proper ceremony at your convenience."

Lifting his head from the small crowd forming at his bench the magistrate asked, "I don't suppose anyone here has a standard forms form? The one that can be charmed to become any document we might need?"

A tall, thin woman strode down the aisle pulling a rolled piece of parchment from her bag, held in place by a wedding band.

Percy gulped; it was his long-suffering fiance, Penelope Clearwater.

She slipped the ring off the parchment and handed it to Harry, then gave the blank form to the magistrate; then curtsied and asked, "By your leave, milord?"

Puzzled, Louis Hunter nodded.

Penelope slapped Percy hard enough to spin him around.

"This tears it you stuck-up piece of shite. I don't know what I ever thought I saw in you in the first place."

Penelope faced the bench again, curtsied again and left.

"Um, well, ah, Harry, will you take Hermione to be your lawful wedded wife?"

"Of course I will."

"Hermione will you take Harry?"

"I will, and gladly."

"Harry, you seem to have a wedding ring in your hand, please place it on the bride's finger."

Harry smiled and placed the simple gold band on the third finger of Hermione's left hand.

Magistrate Hunter grew serious, his expression grave, "It seems that I must, yet again, pronounce sentence. And for these two wonderful people, I'm afraid it's a life sentence."

Harry smiled and stroked Hermione's cheek with the back of his hand, "Do your duty, milord. I'm sure it's no less than what we deserve."

"By the power vested in me by the Ministry of Magic and Elizabeth the Second, by the Grace of God, of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and Her other Realms and Territories Queen, Head of the Commonwealth, Defender of the Faith, I pronounce you, husband and wife. Mr. Potter, you may kiss Mrs. Potter . . . often!"

They laughed, they kissed, and the whole chamber rose to their feet in thunderous applause, reporters ran to file their copy and the Wizengamot adjourned.

)O(

Harry and Hermione Potter stood before the crude headstones at Shell Cottage. Two-month-old Emma Ginevra Potter writhed, insisting that it was mealtime.

Harry summoned a bottle from the ubiquitous 'baby-kit' and reached for his daughter.

"You spoil her you know."

"Emmy Gee is _not_ spoiled." Harry insisted, placing the nipple in her mouth, "she's _cherished."_

"I just pity the boy who tries to date her."

"Hey, she can date, just as soon as she turns, um, thirty . . . something."

They looked down at the well kept graves.

The grass had grown over the turned earth and small wildflowers were blooming.

"It took me a while but I finally sussed it out."

"What's that, Harry?"

"Why Kreacher did it."

Hermione hugged Harry's arm closer to her, "Why?"

"Because, in his eyes, he'd failed once too often. He failed to protect his beloved master, Regulus, and, just when he was getting over _that_ loss, he failed to protect Ginny, whom he had come to love almost as much. After that he just went through the motions until it ate him up so much that the only way for him to find peace was to perform the beheading ritual.

"It probably never bothered him that he'd killed Ron."

"What?" Hermione asked, aghast.

"Ron was killed with a banishing spell, Ginny didn't do it, it would have shown up on a _priori incantatum_. You didn't do it, your wand was locked away upstairs. I should have recognized an elfin banishing spell, after all, I'd seen Lucius Malfoy knocked arse over tea kettle by one back in Ninety-two. Kreacher must have come through just as Ron, or rather Karkaroff, killed Ginny. He couldn't protect her, but he could, and did avenge her."

Harry, still holding his daughter, placed a single yellow rose on each of the graves, "I hope he's at peace, wherever he is. I hope they both are."

"Uncle Harry, Auntie Hermione!" Teddy walked up the path from the village leading a squat, short legged dog on a leash. Chippie, the Welsh corgi, had found a home at last. Harry had inquired after a lost Corgi in Chelsea that answered to the name "Chippie" and sure enough, she was there.

Now she and Teddy were inseparable.

"So I'm walking down the footpath, y'know, in front of the beach comber's shop and there's all these girls just tearing through the t-shirts and flip-flops and Chippie decides to run into the street. Well, I lost the leash for just a second and I call out, "Oi! Chippie!" and this whole mob of girls give me a look like I insulted em' or sumthin'. Innit weird?"

)O(

It was a small wedding, the wedding party and two dozen guests. The guests were seated in white chairs, facing the altar and the participants. The only one not yet in place was the bride.

Harry stood in the natural cove formed by the curve of Waikiki Beach and the base of Diamond Head.

To his left stood his best man, Neville Longbottom. The groomsmen were Upton Stebbins, George and Bill Weasley. Teddy Lupin completed the line as junior groomsman. The groom and groomsmen all wore traditional Hawaiian shirts; Harry's was emerald with subtle white flowers stitched in a seemingly random pattern. The groomsmen wore similar shirts, but without the fine embroidery. All the men wore white linen trousers and white canvas shoes.

Luna Lovegood Longbottom stood matron of honor, to her right were Fleur Weasley, Gabriel Delacour, and Lavender Brown. Victoire, the junior bridesmaid, split her attention equally between Harry and his godson. The bride's matrons and maids wore traditional, thin strapped _Lei of Aloha_ long dresses that matched the groomsmen's shirts.

Rose, just so doggone cute in her Muumuu, tossed rose petals on the path that Hermione would take to join Harry at the altar.

All the guests stood as Jake Shimabukuro, Ukulele virtuoso, played the traditional processional. Arthur Weasley and Franklin Granger led Hermione to stand beside Harry. Hermione's wedding dress was a Hawaiian _Holoku_, the pattern and color of which matched Harry's shirt perfectly.

Priestess Lanikai and _Kahuna_ Kaleo smiled broadly at their _hoahanau, _their cousins.

The event was a mix of traditional Hawaiian and British customs. Those few who attended all agreed it was the most beautiful ceremony they'd ever experienced.

At the close of the ritual, Lanikai, streaming joyful tears said, "We have had a very special honor here today to witness your love's sacred breath, your _aloha. _ You have exchanged Leis, vows, and rings. Now it my privilege, as one who has been authorized to do so by the State of Hawaii, to pronounce you Husband and Wife. _Ho'o-na-ni ka Ma-kua mau?_ Would you like to seal your vows with a kiss?"

Harry and Hermione nodded.

"You may now kiss the bride!"

Louis Hunter cried out, "Often!"

Harry and Hermione ignored the heckler and kissed deeply, lovingly, completely, to applause, cheers and catcalls.

The reception was a luau that none of the guests were likely to forget and when it came time to toss the bouquet Lavender, Gabrielle and Victoire stood in the front of the scrum, a predatory gleam in each eye.

Hermione tossed the bouquet and you would have thought it was March Madness. The flowers bounced off three sets of straining fingertips, not once, not twice, but three times. On the third attempt Lavender, Gabrielle and Victoire bumped bonces and sat hard upon the (thankfully) forgiving sand.

The errant flowers landed in Rosie's outstretched arms.

"Mummy, does this mean I gotta get married next?"

Rose looked at the battling bridesmaids and carried the bouquet to Lavender.

"Here," she said, "You was closest."

Lav pulled Rosie into a tight hug.

Harry went after the garter next, making a show of, "Just how high is this thing anyway?"

Harry snapped the garter high into the air and the bachelor with the longest reach snagged it on the way down.

"Well done, George, you get to dance with Lavender now."

"Oh, well, mate, no worries there. Miss Brown, may I have the pleasure of this dance?"

Lavender curtsied and took the proffered hand.

"Hey, Teddy!"

"Yeah, Uncle Harry?"

"Don't ignore your date."

Teddy looked panicked, "I got a date?"

Harry nodded solemnly, "Yeah, with Victoire."

Teddy leaned in and whispered, "But, Uncle Harry, she's like, _eight."_

"She's nine, and you're ten, and believe me when I say one year's difference won't matter at all when you're in your upper forms at Hogwarts. Suck it up kid, and go take that hill!"

Teddy took a deep breath and walked over to where Victoire sat, looking a bit dejected.

"Pardon, Mademoiselle, Danse, s'il vous plait?"

You could have burst every light in Honolulu with the power behind Victoire's smile. And, being both the cause and the recipient of that brilliance, Teddy was hooked, but good. He would never recover from that smile, indeed he would never want to.

Harry and Hermione greeted all the guests and thanked them for coming. The only gift they would accept from their friends, family and co-workers was their presence and their good wishes for a happy future.

The four Granger-Weasley-Potter children were delegated to Auntie Andie and Auntie Fleur's tender care.

Then Harry and Hermione embraced, kissed, and disappeared as the portkey in the bride's lei carried them to their honeymoon cottage and the next chapter of their lives.

_Finis_

)O(

A/N: First and foremost, please remember Battered hearts is GuitarGurl's story; I was just the guy who finished telling it. There's a great line from an episode of Firefly, "If you can't run, you walk, if you can't walk, you crawl, and if you can't crawl, well, you get someone to carry you home."

It was my pleasure to carry this story home.

Hope you enjoyed it.

I did script the entire Hawaiian wedding, it took hours, vows and music and blessings in Hawaiian. However, beautiful as it was - I mean it brought tears to my eyes as I wrote it - it didn't move the story along. So, just this once, I didn't make my readers suffer for my research. . .

Don't ask to see it; it's gone to electron heaven.

Special thanks to all who read and reviewed, your reviews often help shape the story and this one was no exception.

I love you all, truly.

Brightest Blessings all; Merry Part.

Norman


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